


The moth bends no more

by norgbelulah



Category: Justified
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Bisexuality, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Miami, Recreational Drug Use, Reunions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-07
Updated: 2019-02-07
Packaged: 2019-10-23 19:09:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 44,639
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17689193
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/norgbelulah/pseuds/norgbelulah
Summary: I am not ready for repentance;Nor to match regrets. For the mothBends no more than the stillImploring flame.~Hart Crane, LegendShe’s turning and she calls to him, “Hey, Givens, do you know this tweaker over here?”Raylan turns and tilts his head as he walks over, that insane hat slanting to the side.  He’s wearing cowboy boots too, and a summer suit, linen and nearly white.  He’s fucking shining and there’s blue and red lights flashing across his face as his eyes widen when he lays them on Boyd.Thirteen years after they leave Harlan, Raylan finds Boyd in a place he least expects. Well, it's more like Boyd finds him, then never leaves.





	The moth bends no more

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [The legend of their youth](https://archiveofourown.org/works/422195) by [norgbelulah](https://archiveofourown.org/users/norgbelulah/pseuds/norgbelulah). 



> This fic was written as an alternate sequel to to The legend of their youth. For a full experience, read that story first. For an even fuller experience, read Until the bright logic is won also. However, its not necessary to read either to understand what's going on.
> 
> I wrote this fic five years ago. It was finished then but I didn't post it because I felt weird about it. Then I thought maybe i could turn it into something else. I've since decided it's much too much Justified to be anything other than what it is.
> 
> Please read the end notes for some more personal context and also trigger warnings.

“No, no, no, stay,” Will says to Boyd, sleep in his mouth. “Where are you going?”

Boyd smiles at him. “I shouldn’t have come.”

His hand snakes up and out, wrapping long fingers around the back of Boyd’s neck. He pulls him down for a kiss, heavy and sweet. “You can’t stay away,” he murmurs.

Maybe Boyd can’t. He thinks it’s all right though. For now. “I have to go to work.”

“No you don’t,” he says. He pulls Boyd back on the bed. “Call what’s-her-face to fill in. The dyke. She’ll do anything for you.”

Boyd regrets telling him about Caitlin, who was not strictly a dyke, who he fucked the other night because he needed a change. He thought it would put some distance between them, distance he needs. It’s just making Will cling harder.

“They’re gonna give me dinner. You know I get it half off.” He smiles. “Man’s gotta eat.”

“I’ll cook for you,” he says. He’s serious.

Boyd shakes his head. “Got to get tips for rent, baby. Come on.”

“You know that you don’t, Boyd.”

Boyd smiles again, but it’s beginning to feel strained. He never should have stayed for that month. He should have crashed with someone else.

“You’re so sweet,” he says and pulls away. “I’ll see you, Will.”

 

Behind the bar, Caitlin’s giving him a look.

“What?” he asks.

She’s a short, compact little thing, with a boyish haircut and some bleached strands at the front, sort of punk, but still pretty girl next door, if all girls next door were slightly butch. 

Boyd really likes her, but he can tell she likes him more.

“There’s somebody staring at you from that table over there,” she says, nodding dubiously to the corner.

Boyd turns. He refrains from swearing. It’s Will, dressed now in his customary uniform for going out and being social--charcoal grey pants and a trim, white button down. “What the hell?” he mutters. He didn’t pin this boy for a crazy stalker. 

He’s five years older than Boyd, who’s feeling comfortable at 33. He’s a manager of an art gallery three blocks over from the bar where Boyd works. He’s near the top of his field in curation and he’s a talented potter in his own right. What’s he doing following Boyd to work when they fucked like an hour and a half ago?

He’s about to go over and ask when Caitlin interjects, “Is that him? Your boyfriend?”

Boyd scowls. “He ain’t that.” Boyd doesn’t do boyfriends, or girlfriends, not like most people.

“But you don’t want to see him anymore?”

“No,” he says, and realizes that doesn’t answer the question for either of them. 

Boyd does want to see him. He’s a sweetheart and great in bed. They like the same things. 

But Boyd doesn’t want a boyfriend. He doesn’t want to move in, or cook and clean and be like that. Boyd wants to see other people. He doesn’t want a tether.

He thinks about Will not wanting to let him go. He suppresses a shudder that Caitlin entirely misinterprets.

“Well, fuck that,” she says and speeds around the side of the bar. She gets right up in his face, hissing something Boyd can’t hear. Will’s eyes shoot to Boyd’s, who keeps his expression even, then he sneers and pushes past her, towards the door.

Caitlin looks pleased with herself when she comes back and Boyd’s not sure he wants to know as he asks, “What did you say?”

She grins at him. “Oh, just to fuck off and that you’re with me now.”

Boyd stares. He almost drops the glass he’s holding. He tilts his head and forces a smile, saying, “Cait, honey, you just said that to make him back off, right?”

“Maybe,” she says drawing it out and finishing with a wink.

It’s then that Boyd realizes the colossal mistake that he’s made.

 

It’s a week later that he’s knocking on the door of a high-rise, penthouse apartment, carrying a six-pack of craft beer that “broke” and a bag of corn chips.

Lilah answers the door. It’s not her place, but he’s really happy to see her. “Thank god it’s you,” Boyd says, knowing he’s being far too dramatic. “I’m so fucking tired of queers.”

She smirks at him. “Oh, poor baby. Come here.” She gives him a pat on the head and then one on his arm as he’s handing her the chips.

The apartment is big and spacious, with straight-backed furniture that’s dwarfed by the ceilings and the windows. To the right of the entry way, there’s an island in the steel and grey granite kitchen at which Jonathan, an old flame that burned out quickly when Boyd first moved to Atlanta, is making salsa.

“I’m hurt,” he says, also smirking. Jonathan is a very tall and broad, blond-bearded Swede, who hails from Minneapolis and works for CNN. Boyd really enjoyed sucking his cock, but he didn’t like sharing.

“And you’ve come to entirely the wrong place, darling.” Jonathan’s partner, Dalton, says as he enters from the bedroom, hair dripping immaculately and wearing nothing but a tiny purple kimono, like the kind you see in pornos and trashy soap operas. 

He gives Jonathan a kiss on the cheek and throws Boyd a withering look as Jonathan rolls his eyes. Dalton scoffs, “That’s what you get for shitting where you eat, Boyd.”

“God, Dolly,” Lilah groans as she follows Boyd in. “Put some fucking clothes on. Jesus Christ.”

He turns right around, with a half a huff as she calls after him, “Not _everyone_ in this apartment is here for your body.”

Boyd sits at the island opposite Jonathan, props up his elbows on the counter, and lays his head in his arms. Tonight, he is impervious to the terribly cliched sass-fest that this apartment so often becomes.

“What’s wrong with you?” Jonathan asks, mildly.

“Boyd has love troubles,” Lilah replies for him. She must have told Dalton, who didn’t bother to tell Jonathan, since he’s asking. Boyd figures he’ll let her keep telling everyone.

“What? You?”

“It happens sometimes,” he says, raising his head.

“Quit moping,” Dalton says as he comes back in, now in sweats and a white t-shirt. Boyd supposes he must have had a really hard day at the gym and whatever important trust-fund baby things he needed to do that day, like getting his head massaged or some other kind of nonsense, for him to not bother dressing for company--even though they were just watching a movie. “You can’t complain he likes you too much, and it’s your fault for screwing the dyke. She sounds too young to not try to fix you.”

Boyd refrains from reminding them she’s bisexual, like he is. 

“You’re just repeating what I told you,” Lilah interjects. Boyd loves it when she calls him on his shit. She seems to be the only one who’s allowed, since they grew up in a country club together. “But anyway, she is. I saw her myself. She’s way too young.”

Boyd doesn’t remind the terrible twins that they’re only about two years older than the girl.

“Boyd always complains people like him too much,” Jonathan says, smiling. 

Boyd leans forward to reach for a beer, eying Jonathan. They don’t bring up the on-again, off-again thing they had going until Jonathan met Dalton at a fundraiser about two years ago. It comes up occasionally and they share a certain look, that everyone else politely or pointedly ignores.

“They’re doing this staring contest thing now,” Boyd says. “Will comes up to the bar when I’m working--I’m not going over anymore, I swear.” Lilah laughs. “And they glare at each other. So, you know, I don’t want to--anyway, I talk to him and everything’s fine. But then she’s up on me behind the bar and looking at him like--” It’s so stupid he can’t continue.

“That’s some schoolyard bullshit, Boyd.” Jonathan’s finished with the salsa apparently and now they’re all standing around looking at him.

“You should just quit the job and stop seeing the guy and that will be that.” Dalton’s tone is smug and superior.

Boyd scowls. It’s not like he doesn’t know what to do here. He can’t quit right now. He needs to pay rent and eat. Of course, Dalton Stanford III wouldn’t understand that. And Boyd doesn’t know about Will. If he could just pull back slow enough.

Jonathan is still smiling at him. “ _You_ like _him_ too much,” he says.

The boy knows him too well.

Will is absolutely beautiful. Boyd thought so the moment their eyes met across the bar. His are gray and large. He’s got a long stare and a square jaw. His voice has a low twang. He’s from a tiny town on the Georgia coast, a tourist town, with big houses and smaller ones far from the beach. He left for school and didn’t look back.

He gives as much as he takes and Boyd likes that. He’s got a sweet smile, the sweetest after they’ve fucked. He works too much and, like a lot of partners, doesn’t really get Boyd’s bisexual thing. He smiled when Boyd told him, and nodded his head, but his eyes skittered away until Boyd smoothed it over with a blow job.

He doesn’t like that Boyd wants to see other people, but he doesn’t want him to leave either.

Boyd knows he’ll have to be the one to do it.

Jonathan reaches out and pats his head. Just like Lilah did. “Let’s watch the movie,” he says.

The film is a foreign thing Boyd thinks he would have enjoyed if he wasn’t so distracted by the tangle his life has become. His mind keeps wandering. He starts thinking about going over to Will’s. He hasn’t been at all this week and he’s certainly not fucking Caitlin again.

He wants to runs his hands through the long strands of his hair, dangling, sweat-soaked, over his forehead. He wants to pull hard at the short ones at the nape of his neck. Boyd feels like being fucked tonight.

They switch off the TV before he realizes the movie’s over. Lilah snaps her fingers in front of Boyd’s face. He was staring down at the floor near Dalton’s unimaginably large entertainment center. 

He groans and twists around to lay his head in her lap. She threads her fingers through his hair.

“Come to South Beach with us, sweetheart,” she croons. “Get away for a while.”

Lilah’s family owns a ton of real estate. It’s her brother who’s got the condo in South Beach. He’s a restaurateur, specializing in the kind of places that are tucked into the first floors of Hiltons and Hyatts. He only lives in Miami in the summer and travels frequently regardless. 

Jonathan, who also works too much, has a rare weekend off and, as he and Dalton are starting to experiment with an open type of relationship, wants to go somewhere where the two of them can get drunk or high and make out with people they never have to lay eyes on again.

The Atlanta club scene is fine, but after a while, everyone looks a little familiar.

“I have to work,” he replies, closing his eyes.

“No you don’t,” she says, cajolingly. “We’ll, comp the whole weekend, darling. You won’t have to worry about anything.”

Boyd thinks, she’s going to make a wonderful lawyer, sweet with the clients and a tiger in the court. It took her two years to convince her father to pay for it--and that sure as hell says something about the stubbornness of the whole clan. What finally convinced them was her professed certainty that she’ll find a suitable future politician to marry at Emory.

“I’ll lose my job,” he says.

She laughs. “You were gonna quit anyway.”

He was. Not so soon, but it’s sounds very tempting. Tempting enough that it might be just the thing to do. He thinks, he could skip town all together. Go to Miami and stay or go...somewhere else. He keeps thinking about home so much lately. But he doesn’t think he can do that--not yet.

And her fingers feel wonderful. He’d given himself a headache thinking about Will, about how he wants to go over there, about how he knows it’s a terrible idea.

Boyd thinks sometimes about asking Lilah to distract him in a less platonic way, but he knows Dalton would flip his shit over it. 

He’s already got his panties in a tight enough twist over the fact that Boyd and Jonathan are still obviously attracted to each other--though neither would act on it, not now. On Boyd’s part, it’s mostly nostalgia, remembering the nice times they had together. For Jonathan, Boyd thinks it’s also that Boyd is his type, tall-ish and wiry, a little darker than him, but not by much. Dalton’s the same, in a general sort of way, and in appearance only.

The first time Boyd met him, out for dinner not long after the two of them had started dating, the second thing the boy did after introductions and was raise his thin little eyebrow at Boyd’s accent, which of course he decided to play up for the rest of the night. Poor Jonathan, the midwesterner, had been so confused.

Conversely, the first time Lilah had heard him speak, she’d given him this fascinated smile and asked, “Where the hell are you from, honey?” He’d immediately loved her.

He’s half asleep when she says, fingers still working, “I’ll take that as a yes. Our flight’s in the morning. I’ll get you on it.”

Boyd had forgotten they’re leaving tomorrow. He sits up, saying, “Oh. Oh, shit.”

Her brows are raised and she grabs at his arm as he moves to get up. “Just stay here tonight, Boyd.”

He smiles. “It’s not so late.”

“I think you’re gonna miss the last train.” The room is quiet and dark. It seems Jonathan and Dalton went to bed when he wasn’t looking.

“I’ll be fine,” he tells her. They both know where he’s going.

“But you’re still gonna come?” she asks. 

She’s such a sweetheart. Her dark hair is pulled up in a smooth ponytail and her creamy white skin is almost glowing in the light from the moon through the giant windows of the place. Her eyes look very wide in the dark and she’s frowning at him. He loves that she laughed before and that she’s terribly concerned now.

It makes Boyd smile. He’s never had too many close friends who weren’t lovers. They’re a special and rare breed for him.

He gives her a kiss on the cheek. “You know I love you, don’t you?” he says.

She huffs, though it sounds more like a sniffle. “Oh, shut the hell up,” she tells him. “Go on, make terrible decisions. See if I care.”

“Text me the flight number?”

“Yes, yes, darling,” she mumbles and stretches out on the leather sofa, though she only lives a building away.

He turns off the lamp on his way out.

 

It takes Will a minute or so to answer the door when he knocks.

He’s greeted by another sleepy smile, a half-awed whisper of, “You really can’t stay away.”

Boyd gives him a wilting smile of his own. “You have to stop, baby.”

Will looks down. He knows, he definitely does, but he slides his eyes back up to Boyd’s face, as though he isn’t sorry about how he got Boyd back to his door.

“It’s undignified,” Boyd says. He really just wants to step forward, but he feels like it has to be said.

“Look how low you’ve brought me, honey,” Will replies and it’s over for Boyd.

He’s across the threshold in a moment and kissing Will hard. Will almost stumbles with him, but he gathers enough force to slam the door shut before they half-trip into his bedroom. Will’s long fingers work easily at stripping Boyd of his clothing. He’s already clad only in a pair of boxers. Boyd gets a hand under the waistline and around his cock fast.

“I want this inside me,” he says. 

Will stiffens in his hands and his kiss becomes fevered until he stops, suddenly and holds Boyd’s face in his hands. 

Will is usually all smiles in bed and Boyd really loves that. Boyd keeps things light, always, and smooth. But Will is looking at him hard now and Boyd knows he wants something. “You won’t leave again, will you?”

Boyd thinks for a moment that he might just say no, no he won’t leave, because he wants Will so much right now. But he knows, too, that he doesn’t have what Will wants. He’s wondered for a long time if he does and he’s pretty sure that he doesn’t. Whatever desire he ever possessed to stay in one place, to call someone, somewhere, home, he lost when he left Harlan, left without saying goodbye to Raylan.

And when he thinks Raylan’s name, he sees Raylan’s face in Will’s, and realizes why it took him so long to really walk away and maybe why he’s been thinking so much about Kentucky. Will’s gray eyes are dimmer, but shaped the same, his smile almost as wide and honest and wry, almost.

“Oh, God,” Boyd whispers, then drags his fingers through Will’s hair. “Don’t ask me that ‘til after,” he pleads.

Will has developed this habit of never saying no to him.

Boyd doesn’t smile when Will fucks him, murmuring lovely, wispy things into his back and shoulders. He reaches around and they draw it out of Boyd together, just before he comes, heaving breaths and saying other things that sound like “I love you,” but are made out of different words altogether.

Boyd feels shaky and strange as Will wraps his arms around him, turning so they face each other, smiling still. Will kisses him with a sleepy mouth. He’s not going to remember to ask Boyd to stay.

Will softens into him, not noticing Boyd’s rigidity, his stillness. He leans his head on Boyd’s shoulder, but Boyd lays him down flat on the bed. He waits for Will to fall mostly asleep, kisses him very softly on the mouth and then against his temple as he turns away again.

“I’m so sorry,” Boyd whispers and gathers his clothes. He’s got to get out of Atlanta.

 

“Well, you look like absolute shit,” Dalton says when Boyd finds them at the airport gate in the morning.

“Well, fuck you too, darlin’,” he replies darkly, not in the mood at all.

Jonathan looks between them sternly. “I don’t know what’s crawled up either of your asses lately, children, but I’d really like to have a vaguely relaxing weekend, okay? So, play nice.”

Dalton gives him a kiss on the cheek and Boyd gives him a smile that holds an apology. 

Lilah comes up behind them, all early morning smiles, with a bag full of breakfast sandwiches in her hand. “Eat up, babies,” she tells them. “Dolly, you’re springing for mimosas on the plane.”

Boyd thinks he probably couldn’t do better than friends like these if he’s being such a shithead all the time. So, he smiles, and decides to make himself have a good weekend.

 

Raylan wakes up in his new place, in his new city, to a new pair of lips closing around his cock.

“Oh, shit,” he groans.

Those lips pull off and a pair of big brown eyes appear from under the sheets at his waist. “Good morning,” the boy says, a self-satisfied smirk pulling at those goddamn lips. Raylan props himself up on his elbows, but the boy’s arm snakes up and pushes him back down. “You don’t have to do anything,” he insists, licking his lips, like he just can’t wait. “I told you. I know what to do.”

Raylan finds himself smiling. The boy is so certain, so bold. He finds himself thinking of Boyd Crowder.

_I’ll show you, Raylan. Let me show you. I know. It’s gonna be so good, son. You don’t know how good._

“I believe you,” Raylan tells this boy and lets him get to it. 

He sinks his fingers into the boy’s hair and he makes more noise than he normally would, not because it’s really any better--though there’s a certain enthusiasm that Raylan hasn’t felt in a while--but because he knows it’s what this kid really wants.

He wants someone to tell him he’s good.

Raylan thought he might hate himself in the morning for being drunk enough to take this kid home. But once he comes, loudly and swearing, he looks at him wiping the come off his lips with the back of his hand, as though it’s just another milk mustache. 

He looks so pleased with himself, Raylan feels a little ache in his chest for that other boy, the one who left him a cryptic note on a cabin door after he’d spent countless nights and mornings opening Raylan’s eyes to this whole other part of himself.

He’d kept a lot of it closed off in the years he’d been married. Though he’d never, ever lied to Winona about who he was, what he’d done, he had tempered it and let it fall slowly away. It didn’t seem important when they were together, especially in the beginning when they were so madly in love.

It seems strange to think of it as a state he’d been in once, but now wasn’t any longer. Everything that had happened between him and her, and the inclusion of the goddamn real estate agent, had served to numb him to the whole affair. He didn’t even feel angry anymore. He just knew it was over.

The boy swung a leg over him, straddling him and looking down, still so pleased.

Raylan actually felt glad now, that he could do this again, that it would feel just as right and natural as being with Winona, who had left him, and with Boyd, who’d given him his first taste of both this and heartbreak.

He knew he’d be okay.

He puts a hand to the side of the boy’s face. He lets his smile go crooked. “Did you tell me your name and I forgot it?”

The boy shakes his head. “It’s Michael.”

“Not Mike?”

“No.” 

“How old are you?” He had to be at least--

“Twenty.” Michael is smiling like he knows he pulled one over on him.

Raylan frowns deeply. “How’d you get into that bar?”

“The bouncer’s a cool guy, I guess.” His smile is only larger. His big brown eyes almost laughing.

“I had my badge on last night, son.”

“And your hat.” The kid had really liked his hat.

“You propositioned a federal officer in an alcoholic establishment while under the legal drinking age. You had a beer in your hand.”

“Are you going to arrest me?” He holds his hands out in front of him, right in Raylan’s face, pressed together like they’re already in cuffs. This kid has some interesting kinks.

Raylan shakes his head. He lifts himself up enough to pull the boy down into a kiss. It isn’t rough, he’d feel a little weird about that now, but it’s long and sweet. When he pulls back he says, attempting stern, “Don’t do that again.”

“Why not?” He presses his lips to Raylan’s again.

“For one thing,” Raylan tells him, sitting up now, and pulling the boy into his lap. “It’s dangerous. Don’t go picking up guys by yourself, you idiot. That’s how boys like you get beat. Even in Miami. I should’ve impressed that upon you last night.”

Michael rolls his eyes, like he’s heard it before, but Raylan gets his fingers around the kid’s jaw. 

“For another, purchase and possession of alcohol when you’re under age in this state can get you charged with a misdemeanor and punished by probation, steep fines, and suspension of your driver’s license. It’s not something you want to fuck around with, kid. Not if you’ve just got a year to go.”

“Six months,” he replies and Raylan thinks it’s the first time he’s heard him really sound like a child.

“Then just wait. Jesus Christ.”

Michael looks at him helplessly. “You don’t know what it’s like,” he says, his smile fallen away. “I gotta get away from there. I can’t--”

Raylan smiles at him sadly and when he touches the boy’s face he stops talking. “You really think that I don’t? Where do you think I’m from, boy?”

Michael pouts. “You ain’t from the swamp.”

“Coal country ain’t that different.”

“What did you do?” he asks and he looks painfully young.

Raylan is starting to second guess this whole deal not being a mistake after all. “I got out,” he says. “I borrowed some money and got myself away.”

“I don’t have anybody to borrow from,” he replies. “They don’t want me out. They want me like them. But I’m not, I--”

Raylan lifts a finger to his lips. “I know, son. But listen, I don’t have any money to give you either--”

Michael’s face goes dark and he tries to pull away. “I wasn’t _asking_ , Jesus--”

“Listen to me,” Raylan tells him grabbing at his hands. “I just got divorced. I got legal fees and alimony and rent to pay, so I can’t help you. Lord knows, it’s a bad idea, but I want to.”

“You don’t even know me.”

Raylan smiles. “Yes, I do. So, if you ever need a place to crash, when you need to get away. You can come here. I keep a key hidden in a potted plant in the lobby downstairs.”

The kid’s eyes are real big now. It looks like he might cry. 

“But you listen to this, too, son. I catch you drunk in my place before your 21st birthday, I’m changing the locks and getting rid of the key. You bring someone else here, and I will know even if you do it when I ain’t around, I will remove you at gunpoint, all right?”

He nods vigorously and presses forward, kissing Raylan hard. “Yes, yes,” he says to Raylan’s lips. “Thank you.”

Raylan pulls away fast, thinking all sorts of things that might be assumed here, and says, “You know that this doesn’t mean we’re like, dating or anything, right?”

Michael, the boy, raises a contrary eyebrow and quirks a superior smile. “You think I want a boyfriend?”

Raylan pushes the kid off him. “We’re not fucking again, either.” 

 

Raylan leaves the boy naked in his bed, telling him before he walks out, “I really don’t care if you steal anything. I ain’t been here long enough to get attached. Just think about how trust only goes so far and you might really need what I’m offering you down the line.”

Michael, with his big brown eyes and cocky smile, shows him a honest and truly beautiful smile and says, “You can trust me, Raylan.”

He really hoped so.

 

The club they go to that night is loud and raucous and dark and hot and Boyd thinks suddenly that it isn’t anything that he wants to be a part of. 

He’s still thinking about Will and his whispers and what he’d done. He feels restless under his skin, like there’s something churning close underneath, waiting to break out and ruin someone else’s life for a while.

He thinks about Caitlin. She’ll have to work his shift tonight because he’s not there.

Lilah taps him on the shoulder, offers him a smile and a little pink pill sitting in her open palm. “You want it?” she asks. “I brought two, but Jonathan said he’d just get smashed. I’m designated to get you all home.”

He crooks his own smile at her and takes it, thinking, why the hell not? “You really are a sweetheart,” he says.

“A Queen among men,” she intones, winking, as he plucks it from her hand.

“You know I’m probably going to come onto you, honey,” Boyd tells her. “Like, pretty hard.” He hasn’t done e since New York. He did have a significant club phase, which he’s mostly grown out of. He really only goes when friends ask him to, and he rarely does more than drink.

She laughs and says, “That ought to make things at least somewhat interesting for me tonight.”

He takes the gin and tonic from her hand and washes the pill down with it. “Challenge accepted, my friend,” he says, then adds, “And please don’t let me drink too much on this, okay?”

She smiles. “I’ll take care of you, Boyd.”

He laughs. “You always do.” He looks out across the dance floor below them and sees Jonathan and Dalton in the crowd, not dancing together, but stealing glances and being completely predictable.

Boyd suddenly feels as though he wants to shake something off, though he knows the pill can’t have kicked in already.

“You, finish that if you want,” Lilah says, pointing at the g and t still in his hand. “I’ll go get something else and see you down there?”

“Sure,” he says, taking another drink. He looks down at the dance floor again and hesitates. It’s not as though he doesn’t enjoy dancing, it’s just--this kind of dancing comes much easier to him when he’s with someone, or when his mood or mind is altered. He’s glad he took the e. He realizes he wasn’t going to let go otherwise.

He pins his eyes on a boy in the center of the floor. He’s a wiry little thing, dark-haired and dark-eyed, with high cheek bones and the air of the Mediterranean about him. Boyd smiles and walks down the stairs.

When he reaches the boy, Boyd doesn’t dance so much as he sways into him. It’s gratifying that his response to Boyd’s overtures is to grin and sway back, grabbing fast at his hips and pulling them together into a rhythm.

They dance quite close for a few minutes until Boyd leans into his ear and asks, “Are you with anyone?”

The boy, his pupils blown wide, obviously on something, smiles and replies, “I’m with you.”

Boyd steps back, pulling his teeth into a grin close to a snarl. He’s feeling the vibration of the floor in his bones and in the air across his skin, beaded with sweat and glitter off people’s bodies. It’s coming on him now and he closes his eyes. When he opens them again, he tells the boy, “No, you’re not.”

He closes his eyes again and tilts his head, the beat is incessant and wonderful. It’s filling him up and he steps forward without opening his eyes again. He feels like he wants--no, needs--to melt into the crowd. He feels it like another consciousness, like it’s moving his body all on its own.

Hands and elbows and arms are touching him, brushing against him and the contact, skin on skin, makes him gasp--it feels beautiful. He opens his eyes again and he thinks, for just a moment, he sees Will’s face. Then he thinks, no, it’s _Raylan’s_ \--wide, searching eyes under serious brows and a goddamn white cowboy hat. 

Boyd thinks he must be hallucinating. 

He thinks maybe there was something else in that pill He blinks his eyes, he sways where he stands and almost stumbles forward, but he can’t because he’s watching Raylan from across the dancefloor, striding through the crowd--he’s looking for someone. Boyd sees him and he knows that it’s him.

Boyd is turned around suddenly, caught unawares. He’s brought around by Lilah’s hand on him, tugging hard. “Drink this,” she says and takes a second glance at his face. “Are you okay?”

Boyd has lost sight of Raylan. He tries to spin back, but he can’t see where he’s gone. “No,” he whispers, searching and searching. He starts to feel dizzy he’s looking so hard. “No, no, no,” he says and tries to pull away from her.

“Hey,” she cries and hauls him back, dropping the drink and laying two hands on either side of his face. “Look at me, Boyd. What is the matter?”

“I saw Raylan,” he says, very clearly.

Her expression only shows confusion. “What is that?”

Boyd opens his mouth, but he can’t really answer, anything he thinks of sounds wrong, or not enough, or--wrong. “Raylan,” he says again and turns his head to look. “I can’t find him.”

“Honey, I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Boyd is still looking through the crowd, then at the walls of the building. Raylan was walking towards a door. “I think he went outside.” Boyd starts to walk that way, but Lilah pulls him back.

“No way,” she cries. “You’re not going anywhere without me and the boys.” She brings a hand back up to the side of his face, a cool palm against his cheek. Everything’s roaring inside him. He saw Raylan. That’s important. 

“Help me find Raylan,” he whines.

“Just wait for us,” Lilah tells him.

Boyd shakes his head. He doesn’t think that will work. Raylan won’t wait, Boyd didn’t wait for him before he left. Raylan doesn’t know either--he’ll just disappear, like Boyd did, like Boyd loves to do before anyone can do it to him.

He hears her shout for Jonathan to gather Dalton and her hand is wrapped hard around his wrist, like a shackle--keeping him from finding Raylan. He pulls against it.

“Boyd, just wait.” She’s telling Jonathan, “--said he saw someone he knows--ah, _shit_.”

Boyd breaks away then, smiling and almost sprinting towards the door. The bouncer tries to say something to him, but he pushes past and out and into--a crime scene.

There are barricades set up along the sidewalk, closing off the street. Bright, red and blue, lights flashing across the buildings, reflecting brighter off of chrome and the white and black police cars. Boyd is blinking hard, slowing, and pushing to the front of the barricade.

He sees Raylan, off near one of the cars--a big black Town Car. He’s talking to a man in a police uniform. A woman with dark hair and a look of triumph on her face is pushing a man in cuffs into another car nearby. There’s a badge at Raylan’s belt, and a gun, and that hat. 

Boyd hears himself sort of moan and he tries to pull himself up and over the barrier.

“Holy shit, _what are you doing_?” Lilah’s voice is behind him and her hands are pulling him back. “Christ, Boyd, it’s a crime scene. The bouncer says it’s Marshals after some mafioso--”

Boyd starts laughing. The lights are hurting his eyes. “Marshal Raylan,” he laughs. “Oh my god.” His daddy would throw a shit fit--would fucking shoot him. 

Boyd thinks then about his own daddy, what he’s doing with his own goddamn life--tripping on e and pining after a _federal_ he fucked in secret thirteen years before--in his daddy’s cabin, under his daddy’s nose.

Boyd bends over, bracing himself on the barricade. He feels Lilah at his back, muttering curses and pulling at him to stand up. “Boyd, they’re federal agents and you’re high as a--”

“Is he okay?”

It’s the woman. She’s standing next to the barricade, looking down at him and frowning. “Are you okay, sir?”

He blinks and Lilah helps him stand. She’s just a couple inches shorter than him in the heels she’s wearing. Her eyes are brown and clear and she’s actually really beautiful. The wood is rough against his hands and he remembers that he is really high, but he says anyway, “I just want to talk to Raylan.”

Her brows shoot upwards. “Raylan Givens?”

He nods, licking his lips, then biting the lower one. His eyes dart towards where he knows Raylan is. She’s turning and she calls to him, “Hey, Givens, do you know this tweaker over here?”

Raylan turns and tilts his head as he walks over, that insane hat slanting to the side. He’s wearing cowboy boots too, and a summer suit, linen and nearly white. He’s fucking shining and there’s blue and red lights flashing across his face as his eyes widen when he lays them on Boyd.

“Oh, shit,” he breathes and he slows for a moment, like he’s lost his bearings, but he seems to get them back quickly because he’s next to Boyd in a flash and all Boyd is thinking is his name and how he wants to be closer to him.

“Raylan,” he says, “Oh my God, _Raylan_.” He can’t stop himself from pushing forward and reaching out. Raylan’s hands reach out too, but there’s a frown between his eyes and he hasn’t said anything yet. When Boyd’s hands touch him, they’re at his jacket, at the lapel, and it feels crazy amazing. Boyd thinks it’s because of Raylan and he grins at him.

Raylan’s got his mouth open like he’s not sure what to say. His hand has come under Boyd’s elbow, more automatically than anything, but Boyd can feel it in Raylan’s fingers that he wants to pull him closer.

“So you know this guy?” the lady Marshal asks. “Because, he’s really--”

Raylan takes his eyes off Boyd long enough to give her a glare. “Give me a minute, okay, Karen?”

His accent’s a little thinner, but then again, so is Boyd’s. His voice is lower than Boyd remembers it, but it sounds so nice. He draws his fingers across the fabric of that lapel again. He wants to pull tight and get Raylan near him. He wants--

“Hey, Boyd,” Raylan says and now he’s smiling, softly and like something’s sort of amusing and amazing at the same time. 

Boyd thinks he can get behind that and he grins really big and says Raylan’s name again.

“Yeah,” he answers, still smiling. He looks around the street, like this is that last place he’d like to be, and pulls Boyd over the barricade. “Come here, a minute,” he says.

There’s nowhere else Boyd would rather go.

“Hey,” Lilah calls after them. “ _Hey_ , what the fuck?”

Raylan turns. He’s still got his hand under Boyd’s elbow. He quirks a smile, real crooked, and says, “Don’t worry. I’ll bring him right back.”

He steers Boyd across the flashing street and into the back access entrance of a restaurant next to the club. There’s a dumpster right next to them and the humidity is making the air thick and heavy, but still Boyd smiles as Raylan pushes his back gently against the wall, thoroughly cornering him.

Boyd rubs his fingers against Raylan’s lapel once more and feels himself shiver at the sensation. “I want to touch you, Raylan,” he says. “Can I? Can I touch you?”

Raylan tilts his head again. His eyes look dark under that white hat and there’s still that tiny frown between his brows. The corners of his mouth are turned up, but all around, it looks so much harder than when they were young.

“You are touching me, Boyd,” he says quietly.

“Not like I want to,” he says and pushes forward, mashing their lips together and pulling up on him strong. He wants this so much. Everything about Raylan is bright and heat and he wants it so so much. “Mm gonna make you feel so good, Raylan,” he says. He wants to tear into his clothing. He wants to taste his skin again, to draw his mouth all the way down.

Raylan breaks away from the kiss, pulling back and drawing his hands up to cradle Boyd’s face. Boyd feels like a wave, rushing forward, and Raylan’s hands are the dam. “Let me make you feel good,” he murmurs.

“Boyd, I’m at work,” Raylan says, voice stumbling through hitched breath, half a laugh. “I gotta--”

“No,” Boyd tells him. “Let me taste you. I c’n do it fast.” His mouth is already trailing down Raylan’s neck. “I missed you. I want--”

“Boyd.” Raylan pulls him up again. “I just want to know--Jesus, what are you doing here? D-do you live here? Did you--were you looking for me? What the hell?”

Boyd blinks. He thinks of Will, so he says, “Maybe I was.”

Raylan frowns at him and swears again until Boyd shakes his head and tells him, “Just for the weekend. I live in Atlanta.”

“Well, shit,” Raylan grinds out, shaking his head. “Those are your friends you’re with? From Atlanta?”

Boyd nods, then frowns, and rests his head on Raylan’s shoulder, letting him hold him up some more. “Dalton’s not my fucking friend,” he mutters.

Boyd’s pretty sure Raylan just can’t resist asking, “Why not?”

“He thinks he’s better than me because he’s got a bunch of money and I come from trash.”

Raylan laughs softly. He strokes his fingers across Boyd’s face and it feels like lights underneath his surface. “I can’t tell if you’re being a class warrior or a pissy little queer.”

Boyd kisses him again.

“Come on,” Raylan says, pulling him away from the wall. “I gotta get back. Karen’s going to kill me, I’m not there to help sort this thing out.” Boyd goes easily, following him close. Raylan wraps a hand around Boyd’s upper arm, steering him, keeping him upright. 

Lilah is looking frantic when they make it back over to the barricade. “Oh my God,” she cries, reaching for him. 

Boyd feels bad he really wants to stay next to Raylan, who’s like, radiating this warmth that’s making him feel just wave after wave of want and something else, something--

“What the fuck, Boyd? Who is this guy?” She’s got her hand in his shirt, trying to get him back over the barricade.

She looks so pissed, but he smiles at her anyway, looks back at Raylan and says, “It’s Raylan.”

“Ugh, you’re the worst, what--”

Raylan is looking between them like he’s watching a sitcom and Boyd loves his smile so much, it’s so wide and pretty--when Raylan smiles he really really smiles big. He holds out his hand to Lilah and says, “Deputy U.S. Marshal Raylan Givens, miss. Boyd and I go a ways back.”

Lilah frowns. “How far back?”

“All the way back,” Boyd laughs and tries to lean into him. Raylan sort of sidesteps him and raises a hand to clasp around the back of his neck, as if he were an unruly puppy. 

Boyd closes his eyes. He just wants Raylan to touch him.

“Well goddammit,” Lilah says, huffing out some frustration.

“Listen,” Raylan says, and Boyd is just barely listening, eyes still closed, because Raylan’s thumb is doing something small and circular around the hairs at the base of his neck. “I know you’re worried about me worrying about how he,” he must be talking about Boyd, “and your friend behind you, got so fucked up. But I want you to know, I really don’t give a shit. Just, make him _stay here_.” He takes his hand away from Boyd’s neck and Boyd blinks his eyes open, frowning. Raylan looks at him and smiles. “I told you, I gotta go help my partner. Just stay put and I’ll be back and then we can go do whatever you want, okay?”

Boyd’s not sure he ever smiled so big in his life. “Okay,” he says.

“Hey,” Lilah calls after Raylan as he turns away. “You know, we can just go on over to that diner down the block. I’ll get some food in him, you can--”

“Sweetheart,” Raylan breaks in, smiling like she’s an adorable idiot, “if you think I’m gonna let him out of my sight tonight, you’re crazy. The last time I saw this boy, he smiled at me like I'd see him the very next day and all I got when he left was a shitty note and fucking broken heart. Don’t. Go. Anywhere."

He turns to leave, stops then turns back over his shoulder and says, “You’re not gonna like it if I have to come find you.”

Boyd stares at him long after he keeps walking and he’s sort of shaking his head about something, but his eyes are fixed on Raylan’s very straight, very white, retreating back. He’s unaccountably beautiful, so much so, that Boyd doesn’t register for a moment that Lilah’s saying his name.

“What?”

“You’re a piece of work,” she says like she’s saying it again.

Boyd looks at her, blinking. “What?”

“A broken heart,” she says and Boyd’s mouth goes dry. “I guess that’s your M.O., isn’t it?”

Raylan had said that, Boyd realizes. A broken heart. Boyd had always thought--and for a moment he doesn’t even remember what he thought. All he’s thinking about is Raylan’s face and Raylan’s voice and Raylan’s hands and then he thinks of Raylan’s heart and he needs to sit down.

Lilah swears and calls Jonathan over to help. Together they help him sort of pitch over the barricade and fall slowly onto the sidewalk. He leans his head on Jonathan’s shoulder, ignoring some kind of noise coming from Dalton on his other side. Lilah parks herself in front of him and smooths the hair out of his face. “You wanna tell us something about this guy other than his name?”

Boyd grins and he wonders how it looks. He doesn’t feel nearly so happy anymore.

“When I was nineteen in Harlan, Kentucky and working a deep mine, Raylan Givens was the most beautiful thing I’d ever laid eyes on.”

“That is the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard in my life,” she replies.

“It’s true.”

“Well, of course, asshole. No wonder you’re freaking the fuck out over here. And _you_ left _him_? What is the matter with you?”

“He’s straight,” Boyd says.

“What?” It’s Jonathan speaking now. “No, he’s not. At least not entirely.” He nudges Boyd, prompting him to look up. “And you made out with him over there, didn’t you? No way you were gone so long, you didn’t get up on him. And the way he was touching you--Boyd, what planet are you living on? That man wants you as bad as you want him.”

“No,” Boyd says, shaking his head. “You don’t get it.”

“What’s not to get? This guy, who you claim is _totally straight_ decides he wants to fuck you while you’re plugging away inside, what did you say--a deep mine? Jesus. Then, you, mister I know everything about what everybody ever wants or says or does or thinks, decides he _can’t_ really be gay for you. So, you leave him and his poor, beautiful, broken heart in backwoods, bible-thumping, red-state, Kentucky? That’s pretty low, honey.”

Boyd tries to pull away. He wants to get another look at Raylan, make sure he’s still there--wherever he is. He mutters, “No, it wasn’t like that. I talked him into it--I showed him--because I wanted him so bad. I’d never--never wanted like that before.”

“Oh my God, Boyd Crowder,” Dalton twists around Jonathan’s other side. His eyes are wide and he’s smirking like he’s never heard anything so dumb in his entire life. “Are you saying you talked that boy into being gay? That long-legged cowboy? _You _turned him? Who the fuck do you think you are? I guess you’re charming or whatever, but there is no way you are or ever have been good enough to _turn_ some straight boy. That’s a goddamn myth and it’s disgusting.” He suddenly gets this look on his face like he’s so pissed he wants to stalk off and seethe about it, but Jonathan holds him down and he just says, “I am absolutely disgusted with you for even thinking such a stupid, internalized homophobic, shitty thing. He’s obviously in love with you and you’re too scared to be happy about it. You were scared then and you’re scared now.”__

__No one says anything for a minute, until Lilah, who is staring at Dalton like she’s ready for him to grow a second head, asks, “And you’re basing that on what, Dalton? That the Marshal’s in love, I mean. Everyone here knows Boyd’s being an idiot.”_ _

__Dalton huffs and rolls his eyes._ _

__Boyd is staring at him too and barely registers the insult. In the back of his head, he knows it as well, know he never would have said any of that if that little pill hadn't loosened his tongue, if he hadn’t been so thrown by Raylan just--being there. “Tell us, Dalton, on what are you staking such a bold claim?”_ _

__“It’s obvious,” Dalton cries, as though his credibility is being attacked. “He looked like he was ready to eat your face or something. And why would he touch your neck like that, Jesus.” He turns to Jonathan. “Baby, I’m super thirsty. And I’m tired of Boyd’s drama. Can’t _we_ go?”_ _

__Lilah sighs. “Maybe the Marshal will be finished soon.” She sneaks a look between all three of them. “Or, we could make a break for it.”_ _

__Boyd pushes at her shoulder and cries, outraged, “ _No_. Raylan told me to stay put. I’m not leaving.” He stands, a little unsteadily and takes a step to lean over the barricade. He catches sight of Raylan back over next to the black Town Car, signing something for another uniformed officer._ _

__He smiles when he sees Boyd and raises one finger, as if to say, one more minute. Boyd grins and looks back to his friends, saying, “It won’t be that long.”_ _

__Lilah lets out another sigh, this one lighter and half-amused. “You are so gone for him, aren’t you?”_ _

__“Shut up,” Boyd replies, but doesn’t feel like denying it. He never felt the same way about anybody as he did about Raylan._ _

__“Oh, I hate you so much,” Dalton moans._ _

__“Listen,” Boyd says. “After he comes back over here, you guys can just go on back inside or back to the condo or whatever. I’ll be fine with Raylan. I don’t want to mess up your weekend even more, okay?”_ _

__Lilah exchanges a look with Jonathan, who by this time is probably completely sober, but neither say anything._ _

__Boyd spends the rest of the time they wait watching the lights from the police cars reflect off the other police cars and the street and the buildings. It’s really beautiful, like a dance or something, between the red and the blue. He feels echoes of the bass from inside the club through the ground he’s sitting on and it feels like his fingers are rubbing over every single thread woven into his trousers, one by one, and they are all soft and perfect._ _

__Boyd knows it’s the e, but it’s goddamn glorious._ _

__

__After they get the asshole that jumped from a window in the courthouse that morning, the last thing Raylan was expecting was more excitement for him that day._ _

__Enter Boyd Crowder and his little entourage of the high and queer._ _

__Raylan can barely believe it still, even as he’s walking back over to where the group has hunkered down on the sidewalk, waiting for his return._ _

__Boyd’s eyes are focused on something across the street. He looks transfixed and, somehow, even younger than when Raylan last saw him. His eyes are wide open and real green, even in the darkness and the flashing lights, and his fingers are moving rhythmically against the fabric of his pants._ _

__Shit, he is ridiculously high._ _

__Raylan thinks of how forward he was, up on him so fast. He thinks of what he said, how funny it was he’d just met that boy last night._ _

___I’ll be fast. It’ll feel so good, Raylan._ _ _

__He wonders that Boyd seems to have changed so little when he feels like a completely different person._ _

__Boyd is still so distracted by whatever he finds so fascinating, that Raylan pretty much sneaks up on him._ _

__He glances over at Boyd’s friends, none of whose names he caught, and see that they’re all staring at him, waiting to see what he’ll do. The girl, who seems to be admirably feisty and protective, looks like she’s ready to pounce if something weird goes down. The men are sort of curled around each other, with the high one lying across the other one’s legs. They’re all pretty attractive, and by the cut and look of their clothes, reasonably to definitely well-off, the men certainly gay, the girl, Raylan’s not so sure._ _

__Raylan looks back at Boyd and kneels down next to him. He touches his face, lightly, drawing his eyes to Raylan’s own._ _

__He smiles and Boyd grins in response. “Hey, Raylan,” he says softly, like he’s stepping away from a dream._ _

__“Hey, Boyd.” He lets his thumb, starting out unconsciously and moving to who the hell cares, stroke across Boyd’s cheek. He finds it damp from the humidity, making the movement stutter and press too hard. Boyd shivers and blinks at him._ _

__“I was thinking about you,” Raylan tells him._ _

__“Yeah?”_ _

__“I was. Just this morning.”_ _

__Boyd smiles. “I was screwing a man, looks like you.”_ _

__Raylan’s not sure what to do with that. Though he supposes he really can’t judge. “I took a boy home last night, reminded me of you,” he says, since they’re being so honest._ _

__“How?”_ _

__Raylan feels like his smile is ready to split his face. “Pushy. Cocky.” He pauses. “Young.”_ _

__Boyd’s face shows a flash of dismay. “Is that what you thought of me?” he asks._ _

__Raylan shakes his head. “No,” he answers immediately. “No, not only that. And not then. Not at all.” Raylan had thought only that Boyd was amazing, smart, confident, beautiful, dangerous. Raylan had thought the sun shone out his ass. But, despite all the honesty, he isn’t going to admit that right now._ _

__He leans in and presses a soft kiss to the side of Boyd’s mouth, as a sort of apology. The last thing he wants to do is upset him, not so soon after finding him--or being found, he supposes._ _

__Boyd grins and turns towards his friends. “All right,” he says, his smile turning loose and sultry. “Fuck off, bitches. We’re gonna go screw.”_ _

__Raylan watches as all three of their jaws drop in quick succession. His heartbeat quickens at the suggestion, but he shakes his head and lays his hand on Boyd’s shoulder to regain his attention. “Baby,” he says, the endearment feeling natural on his tongue, “we’re not screwing tonight.”_ _

__Lilah, seemingly have shaken off her surprise, says, “Damn straight you’re not.” She looks hard at Raylan. “You got another thing coming if you think we’re gonna let him go off on his own high out of his mind with a fucking cop we don’t know from Adam.”_ _

__Raylan raises his hands in surrender, but Boyd turns to him fast. “What do you mean we ain’t gonna screw?” He pulls himself up and onto Raylan, knocking him off balance and onto his ass on the ground. Boyd climbs up even further and into Raylan’s lap them, raising one hand to his neck and reaching the other down between his legs._ _

__It’s not a violent motion, or unwanted, but it’s fast and it’s sure and it’s everything that Raylan remembers Boyd being._ _

__He has to bite back a curse and force his eyes open. Boyd is smiling at him and his fingernails are digging lightly into Raylan’s neck. “We don’t have to go anywhere to do it, Raylan.” His voice is so low, so clear and soft. “Let ‘em watch us. I’ll show ‘em how to make you tremble.”_ _

__“Jesus Christ,” the other high one, hisses._ _

__Raylan has no idea what kind of face he’s making, but there’s probably some regret hiding somewhere in it as he pulls Boyd’s hand away from him, pries him off slowly, saying, “You are ridiculously high right now. I know that because if you weren’t, you would recognize that such an act would be public indecency and get us all thrown in jail. We’re in the middle of goddamn South Beach, Boyd. The actual middle of the street.”_ _

__The other man, the tall blond, stands then, pulling his boyfriend up with him. “Well, as you said, we’re sort of in the middle of the street. We should probably, uh, get out of it.” He looks over at the girl. “What do you suggest we do?”_ _

__Boyd’s hands, instead of grasping for Raylan’s privates, are now fooling around with the fabric of his jacket again. He figures that’s better, so he shifts a little and says, “I have an idea.” They all turn to him expectantly, so he adds, “We should go get some ice cream.”_ _

__He feels a great deal more accomplished when their jaw drop a second time._ _

__Boyd leans back a little and looks at him with a blinking, confused gaze. “What?” he asks, mystified._ _

__Raylan smiles softly and raises his hand to run through the hair on the side of his head, just behind his ear. He moans and leans into the touch. “You know how much I like ice cream, baby,” Raylan murmurs. “Remember all them nights outside the Dairy Queen. You bought me one more‘n half the time.”_ _

__Boyd’s smile stretches into a contented grin and he answers, “‘Member that time we went three times at Daddy’s cabin and then raced down the mountain ‘fore they closed so you could get your goddamn chocolate dip?” He let out a low laugh. “You said you needed it ‘cause you was gonna be so _sore_.”_ _

__There is a tiny guffaw from somewhere in their little audience and Raylan makes a face. “Well, now that that’s been covered. Let’s get going.”_ _

__He pulls Boyd to his feet, making sure he’s all right to stand, and when the others are all standing too, be beckons them over the barrier. “Hail a cab and follow my car,” he tells the girl. “You can take him with you, you’re so concerned, but if I don’t see you behind me no more, I’m gonna pull a u-ey and switch on my siren, I swear to Christ. If lock-up’s the only place I’m gonna get him locked down, so be it.”_ _

__“I want to go with Raylan,” Boyd says from beside him._ _

__The girl pointedly ignores him and holds out her hand. “I’m Lilah Dougherty.” She looks over at the other two. “The tall one is Jonathan and his boy is--”_ _

__“Dalton,” Raylan supplies. “I heard a little about him.”_ _

__“I bet you did,” Dalton says into his boyfriend’s shoulder and Raylan just starts cracking up._ _

__“Not your ideal reunion, huh?” Jonathan asks._ _

__Raylan meets his eyes, his laughter sobering quickly. “For him?” Raylan says, nudging playfully at Boyd’s hip, pressed close to him. “I’d endure a lot worse.”_ _

__“Raylan, I want to go with you,” Boyd tells him softly, still on that track._ _

__Raylan smiles at him. His eyes are still very wide, but he’s frowning, as though he already knows he’s lost the argument. “Your friends don’t like me yet,” he says, winking at Lilah, who’s obviously fighting a smile._ _

__“They’re assholes,” Boyd replies dismissively._ _

__“So are you,” Dalton says, but Jonathan pulls him away before he can get in Boyd’s face, walking further up the street to hail their cab._ _

__Boyd presses his hands to his eyes and hisses like something’s burned him. “Ugh,” he groans. “Raylan, he’s right. You should just--”_ _

__“And I think we’re gonna stop that right now,” Raylan interrupts him, pressing two fingers to his lips. “Baby, we’ll save the real talk for when you got a grip on what you’re talkin’ about, okay?”_ _

__Boyd shakes his head, insisting around Raylan’s fingers, “I’m--”_ _

__Raylan knows what he’s going to say, so he kisses him fast and pulls back slightly, saying, “You’re not. You know that, Boyd. I got it on good account, you’re pretty smart.” Boyd huffs, not only with laughter, and Raylan tells him. “Go in the cab with your friends. They’re good people. I can tell. I’ll see you there.”_ _

__Boyd frowns. “Where?”_ _

__“At the ice cream place,” Lilah tells him, her eyes trained on Raylan consideringly. “Let’s go. It’s gonna take a year to get you all situated in the cab.”_ _

__Boyd groans again, as she pulls him away. “Don’t make me sit next to Dalton. Jesus, honey.”_ _

__Lilah laughs. “Darlin’, I know better than that.”_ _

__Raylan smiles to himself and gets in his car, driving slow, so he doesn’t lose them. He thinks about Boyd and his friends, who obviously care for him. He thinks about Boyd’s enthusiasm, with the help of, or maybe despite the e he’s obviously on, so much like the boy he used to be._ _

__He thinks about how Karen’s going to rake him over the coals for leaving her with all the paperwork over a tweaker he saw across the barrier in South Beach. He’s only been in the office for three months, even he knows that shit isn’t fair._ _

__It doesn’t take him long to reach the place he wants to take them. It’s a small family-owned shop, the kind that serves specialty flavors that they rotate out and are based off of candy and fancy desserts._ _

__They all tumble out of the cab about a minute after he parks, all laughing about something, except for Boyd, who’s scanning the parking lot. When his eyes rest on Raylan, he grins and almost stumbles, trying to get over to him as fast as he can._ _

__“Hey,” he says, knocking into Raylan hard when he can’t slow himself soon enough. Raylan reaches his hands out to steady him and smiles. “Oh my God, Raylan, I missed you,” he says, but he doesn’t lean in for a kiss or anything, he just looks at him and Raylan feels a sudden rush of warmth for him._ _

__“Yeah?” he asks. “How was the ride?”_ _

__Boyd grimaces and rolls his eyes. “Dalton made Jonathan make out with him the whole way. They stuck me in the corner.” He smiles suddenly then and grabs at Raylan’s hand. “But then I watched out the window, Raylan, and the lights were _streaming_. Like water. It was beautiful.”_ _

__Raylan grins at him. “That’s great, Boyd.”_ _

__He lets Boyd tug at his fingers a little, then draw the tips of his own across Raylan’s knuckles and nails. He’s looking so closely, Raylan can’t help asking, “What is it?”_ _

__“They look different,” Boyd murmurs._ _

__“They are, Boyd. They’re older.” He threads his fingers between Boyd’s and smiles when he shivers. “These hands got into more fights, shot more men, and touched more pussy and cock than the hands you knew ever dreamed of.”_ _

__Boyd’s staring at them like they’re gonna tell him stories. He lifts Raylan’s hands up and asks, “You think I c’n taste all that history, all them years, if I--” and he slips three of Raylan’s fingers into his mouth. He makes a noise like he’s going to come right then, and Raylan has to tear his hand away before they both do something indecent._ _

__“Come on,” he says, pulling Boyd towards the door where his friends have already gone, though Lilah is giving them dirty looks out the large windows. “I think you might be comin’ down with an oral fixation, Boyd. Let’s get something else in your mouth, huh?”_ _

__They get big-ass cones and sit outside on fancy, concrete and plaster picnic tables. Boyd and Dalton have an extremely unsubtle contest regarding who can look more like they’re sucking cock. Boyd is obviously a lot more invested in winning, in some misguided attempt to impress Raylan._ _

__“Baby, it’s getting all over your hand. Just eat the damn thing,” he tells Boyd, nudging at his knee, as they’re sitting real close together. “I know how good you are.”_ _

__Jonathan makes a noise of agreement from across the way and Raylan looks at him sharply. He shrugs and says, winking, “Surely you know how much he gets around.”_ _

__Raylan frowns. He doesn’t know that. He knows Boyd likes to be with more than one person, was with other people before Raylan. He always thought that was so amazing and so brave, to be so open and adventurous in a place like Harlan. He doesn’t see how it translates to being a whore anywhere else._ _

__He looks over at Boyd who seems to have decided to listen to him and is voraciously eating his cone. He smiles at Raylan, melted ice cream all around his lips. “This is _good_ , Raylan. Like, really really good.”_ _

__“I’m glad,” Raylan says._ _

__They all seem to be waiting for him to say something else, so he glances again at Boyd and asks, “You hear any news from home?”_ _

__Boyd shrugs. “Not in a while.”_ _

__Raylan had had to call Helen to let her know about the divorce, seeing as she sent Christmas and birthday gifts to Winona on occasion. “Last I spoke with Helen, she said my daddy got out of jail and yours got put back in.”_ _

__Boyd stills very suddenly and Raylan realizes from the looks on his friends’ faces that shit like that is news to them. Boyd looks at Jonathan and Lilah very quickly and hard, but Raylan can’t decipher his expression before he says, “My hands are all sticky. Mm gonna go clean up.”_ _

__“I’ll go with you,” Jonathan says quickly and Dalton moans in protest._ _

__“No, you don’t--”_ _

__“Boyd,” he says, very plainly. “I’m going with you.”_ _

__Boyd looks away and they walk back into the place._ _

__Lilah pulls Dalton, who dropped his cone on the ground some minutes back, into her lap, but she’s staring hard at Raylan. He feels her eyes like an accusation, so he says, “It’s not my fault he’s keeping secrets.”_ _

__Her jaw juts. “It’s not mine either.”_ _

__Raylan looks down to the ground between their tables. “He never used to do that. I mean, he kept the secrets he had to. And he was so good at that. It was like--”_ _

__“Nothing is ever wrong,” she finishes for him. Raylan’s brows are furrowed. “Until everything is,” she adds. “What about his daddy?”_ _

__Raylan shrugs. “I don’t know why he would have told you right out. But I just assumed it would have come up somehow. Boyd’s daddy’s the hillbilly kingpin of Harlan County. He runs drugs, the racket, whatever he can down there. Boyd’s the oldest. He was lined up to take over.”_ _

__Lilah’s mouth quirks up slightly at that. “Boyd?” Like she can’t even imagine._ _

__Raylan frowns again. Jesus, they don’t know him at all._ _

__“We just thought he was a miner,” she says, still mystified._ _

__Raylan bursts out laughing. “Lord, honey, Bo Crowder loves the fucking mine, but he won’t go near it. Not even for a boatload of cash and coke. That’s why he and my daddy got into that shit in the first place.” He looks at her hard, but still smiling. “They’re scared of it.”_ _

__She’s searching his eyes for something. “But not you boys?”_ _

__Raylan laughs again, this time more bitterly. “Oh no. I was plenty scared. So scared I took money from my aunt to get me out of the hole. It was just Boyd,” he says, watching him walk back across the parking lot, throwing Jonathan a soft smile, examining everything with a careful, awed, eye. “Boyd wasn’t scared at all. He fucking loved it.”_ _

__Boyd comes up to him and slides in close. “I don’t know what you’re talking about if it ain’t sucking your cock, Raylan,” he says._ _

__Raylan laughs and lets Boyd kiss him. “I was talking about blowing shit up.”_ _

__Boyd grins against his lips. “Oh, _that_.” He lets out a breathless giggle. “Shit, boy, I had me a stick of emulex and a blasting cap, I’d show you a thing or two.”_ _

__"Like what?"_ _

__Boyd pulls away and leans down towards the leg of the table. "Put it in just the right place, bet you I could flip this thing on its back, get it a good few feet in the air." He smiles at Raylan. "I don't need to tell you," he says. "You know."_ _

__"I do," Raylan answers, glancing at Lilah._ _

__It takes a few minutes to hail another cab. While they’re waiting, Boyd continues to protest his riding with his friends._ _

__“I want to go with you, Raylan,” he says, pressing his face into Raylan’s shoulder. He side-eyes Lilah and adds, “You’re being crazy. It’s Raylan.”_ _

__She ignores him. Dalton mutters shortly about Boyd’s continued drama--something Raylan would like to hear a little more about._ _

__Raylan pulls at his hand to draw his attention back and smiles. “They’re being careful.” He winks. “I could be playing a long game.”_ _

__“What the hell could you possibly do?”_ _

__Raylan doesn’t have the foggiest, really. At least not anything he already hasn’t declined to do, like arresting them for the drugs. He tightens his fingers around Boyd’s hand. “They care about you, Boyd.”_ _

__Lilah gives him a soft smile._ _

__Boyd shakes his head like it’s irrelevant. Raylan frowns at him, but forces it clear when Boyd lifts his head and shows him a wide grin. “Your skin is so _warm_ , Raylan.”_ _

__Raylan laughs as the cab pulls over. “It’s probably a bad idea anyway, having you next to me while I’m driving.” He looks at Lilah and says, “I’ll follow you this time.”_ _

__“It’s not far,” she assures him and pushes a protesting Boyd into the back of the vehicle. “Jesus, honey, you’ll see him soon.”_ _

__Raylan chuckles as he walks back to his car._ _

__

__The place they end up is one of the smaller and possibly older residential buildings in South Beach but Raylan can tell that it's been done up nice in the past few years._ _

__They wait outside while he parks and Boyd practically jumps in his arms when he makes it back to them. He doesn’t say anything, even after everybody else offers a greeting, he just presses very close to Raylan, his hands up again in Raylan’s lapels. He gets so close, in fact, Raylan nearly trips getting into the elevator that he says, “Come on, asshole, will you let me walk?”_ _

__Boyd’s eyes widen, like he’s just realized maybe he was behaving a little weird, and he backs off immediately, mumbling a, “Sorry, sorry,” that’s so low, Raylan almost can’t hear it. He reaches out then, and like before by the barricade, wraps his hand around the back of Boyd’s neck, which he apparently loves so much he closes his eyes up and is practically purring like a cat._ _

__Raylan draws him close enough he can feel the heat radiating off Boyd’s body, but no so close they’re going to fall all over each other when the elevator gets up to what must be the fucking penthouse._ _

__The elevator actually opens inside the apartment and Raylan has to stop himself from whistling._ _

__Lilah walks right over to the wet bar, about ten feet inside the expansive room and grabs a bottle of Pappy van Winkle. Christ. She looks at Raylan. “I know you want one of these.”_ _

__“I want one,” Boyd says._ _

__“No you don’t,” Raylan and Lilah say at the same time, then smile at each other. “Be as generous as you like,” Raylan tells her._ _

__Boyd moans that they’re being really mean and buries his face in Raylan’s shoulder. Raylan smiles into his sweaty hair, liberally sprinkled with glitter from the club, marvelling at life’s strange surprises._ _

__Jonathan pretty much drags Dalton over to one of the couches--a huge black leather sectional in a U-shape that could probably seat about twelve people. Raylan figures he must be coming down, as he was clearly fading in the elevator, leaning hard against the wall, eyes closed. They curl up in the far corner and Dalton buries his head in Jonathan’s lap._ _

__Raylan tries to make it look like he’s not staring at them. Which is hard since he is._ _

__He just doesn’t get to see homosexual partnership in real life. He has no gay friends, never did. The only way he experiences this kind of intimacy is when he’s engaging in it himself and up until now he never had the opportunity to do it for long._ _

__Lilah has to nudge him to hand him the bourbon and he makes a face. “Sorry.”_ _

__Jonathan meets his eyes when he looks back in their direction. He smiles. “Maybe you are straight.”_ _

__Raylan’s heartbeat speeds up. “There was a question?”_ _

__Raylan knows there’s some kind of fear in his eyes, but he slides a smile across his face and hides it quick. He thinks Jonathan saw it though, because his smile goes soft. “Not really.”_ _

__Boyd lifts his head then and scrubs at his face. “Jonny, let’s not, huh?”_ _

__Dalton lifts his head then, scowling at Boyd. That’s a weird thing then, Raylan muses, but doesn’t think that much more about it because the boy says, “Just that Boyd thinks he turned you with his magical bisexuality, Mr. Marshal. So, let’s figure it out. Do you really like cock, or do you just like Boyd’s?”_ _

__“Oh my _God_ ,” Boyd curses, stepping fast away from Raylan, who catches his arm, holding him still. Lilah makes a disgusted noise and flops on the couch, far away from them._ _

__Raylan tilts his head. He takes a breath knowing now that what was happening wasn’t anything more than an insecure boy lashing out at a past relationship._ _

__“Come sit down with me, Boyd,” Raylan says and pulls him towards the other end of the U. Boyd won’t look at him and would probably have kept on going right over to the other two men, if Raylan hadn’t refused to let go of his arm._ _

__Raylan looks at Dalton again. His eyelids are heavy and he looks a little dazed. Raylan’s not sure he delights in being so mean, but there’s a smile on his face that’s growing out of pride. Raylan knows how that is. “So, if I just like Boyd’s cock, how would that imply I don’t _really_ like cock. Is Boyd’s cock not real?”_ _

__“It might be mythical,” Lilah snorts and Raylan looks at her sharply. “What?”_ _

__Jonathan offers a now strained smile. “You’re right. Dalton just gets pissy when he’s coming down. He didn’t mean anything by it.”_ _

__Boyd is scowling now, his arms crossed even though Raylan’s still got a grip around his forearm. “Don’t apologize for him,” Boyd says. “You always have to. It’s bullshit.”_ _

__“Darling, you’re really not helping,” Lilah murmurs. Her glass is nearly empty. Raylan’s barely touched his._ _

__“I’m just trying to--”_ _

__“Trying to make yourself look good. Whatever comes easiest, right?” Dalton is apparently not fading fast enough to shut the hell up. “You think we don’t know you, you--”_ _

__“You clearly don’t.” Raylan’s had enough. Sure they are drunk and high, and Raylan knows from experience that's when the worst comes out, especially with good friends. But he just can’t believe what he’s hearing._ _

__All eyes in the room are on him now. Next to him, Boyd is shifting uncomfortably. “Raylan, maybe not--”_ _

__“What do you mean?” Lilah’s voice is low, on the borderline of offended._ _

__“Never in my life have I known Boyd to do _whatever comes easiest_.” Raylan can’t keep the contempt all the way out of his voice. _ _

__Boyd is shaking his arm. “Raylan, it’s no big deal, really.”_ _

__“Did he tell you anything about where we grew up?”_ _

__Lilah gets up and goes back for the bottle in answer. “Nothing except working in the mine when you two were nineteen,” Jonathan says. His eyes are on Boyd, who isn’t looking at anybody anymore. He leans his head, shaking it from side to side, on Raylan’s shoulder. He should be coming down too now, but Raylan wants to get through this before anybody passes out._ _

__“Boyd and I did the running on our crew. That means, we went down the farthest to pick up the scraps of coal that started to fall when the ceiling was caving in. Our job was the most dangerous one you could have. But Boyd, he was braver than even that. He put his hand on mine in the dark corner of the puddle--the whorehouse pub in Cumberland--and he told me my smile was sweet. No one heard. He was careful, but that doesn’t mean they couldn’t have. And I think you know what would have happened to him if they had, or if they’d found him pressing me up against the batting cage fence, or holding a knife on a whore and feeding her oxy so she wouldn’t tell anyone she saw us screwing in her trailer. Boyd risked so much to get what he wanted, and I think that--that he wanted _me_ that much was what convinced me to listen to him when he said how good it was going to be. I know, you know, everybody fucking knows you can’t turn somebody gay, but if Boyd hadn’t risked _so much_ when we were nineteen, if I hadn’t believed him then, and fallen in love with him, I wouldn’t be the same man I am now.”_ _

__He sits back and lets Boyd curl into his side. He thinks he hears a quiet sniffle, as Boyd presses his face to Raylan's chest. Raylan wraps an arm around him. He feels wrung out too, but he makes sure to look at Dalton, who’s blinking rapidly in his direction, as he adds, “So I don’t really need to hear anything else from you on how _well_ you know Boyd, because as I said, you clearly don’t know him at all.”_ _

__“And I think that’s our cue to go to bed,” Jonathan murmurs, pulling his boy up with him. Dalton doesn’t look quite shamefaced, but he could be too tired for that sort of expression. They stagger down a long hallway and into a bedroom._ _

__After they’re gone, Lilah stands saying, “There’s only one other bedroom. Boyd was going to sleep on this monstrosity. One of the sections is a sleeper. I’ll leave you to find it.”_ _

__Raylan meets her eyes and they look disappointed somehow. “Thanks,” he says._ _

__She throws him a smile that’s on its way to being bitter. “You know, I invited him so I wouldn’t have to be the third wheel this weekend. I thought he’d get his mind off his shit, and get high, and maybe screw me since I hadn’t had any for a while and we’d never done it before. But, lucky me, I got to be the fifth wheel instead.”_ _

__She clearly thought Boyd was sleeping already, because when he twists away from Raylan to face her, she goes white as a sheet._ _

__“Boo hoo,” Boyd says, clinging hard to Raylan. His expression turns sour. “You wanted to fuck, sweetheart, you should have just said something. Don’ have to go through all this bullshit. You know how I get around.”_ _

__“I’m sorry,” her voice breaks as she turns away and disappears down the fall._ _

__“ _Fuck,_ ” Boyd says as he climbs on Raylan’s lap and presses his face again to his shoulder. He pulls back quickly, his eyes still dark from pupils too wide. “Jesus, Raylan, I’m so sorry. That was terrible.”_ _

__Raylan can feel his expression fall into a bewildered frown. He rubs his hands up and down Boyd’s arms and feels him shiver in response. “You know, I think you might be right, Boyd.”_ _

__“About what?” He looks so surprised by that, Raylan almost laughs. He seems so different._ _

__Raylan leans in and brushes his lips against Boyd’s, softly. He smiles when he shivers again. “Your friends are assholes.”_ _

__Boyd huffs, sinking lower on Raylan’s lap. “It’s only because they’re children of privilege, Raylan. They’re too young to know they ain’t wise.”_ _

__Raylan smiles. He remembers this Boyd. “And we’re too old now to think we ain’t stupid.”_ _

__“Much too old,” Boyd says._ _

__Raylan’s the one to pull back now. He looks into Boyd’s still wet eyes and lays his hands on their side of Boyd’s face. “How do they not know you?”_ _

__Boyd looks sad then and Raylan wishes suddenly he hadn’t pushed the issue. “The funny thing about living in a place where nothing is easy, Raylan, is that when you get out, it becomes so much harder to return to the difficult path.”_ _

__Raylan feels like he gets that. That kind of attitude is probably what began the breakdown of his marriage. So he smiles at Boyd, ready to talk about something else, or let him sleep._ _

__But Boyd goes on. He says, “The weird thing is, it’s _not_ always easy. But once you get a taste of that, you want to keep everything that way. You want to make it so nothing’s so hard as it used to be. So, you smooth things over until you have to walk away and you smile and say nothing when you could turn all their eyes on you because they’re wrong or you’re different and they just don’t know. I told myself they didn’t need to.”_ _

__“They don’t _need_ to, Boyd. The question is, did you want them to? I’m sorry if you didn’t.” _ _

__Raylan suddenly realizes he’s maybe overstepped here, inserting himself immediately between Boyd and these people. He actually had a very little idea of how close they are or how close Boyd would want him to be._ _

__“It’s okay,” Boyd says softly, his voice fading. “I might have. I can’t really think right now.” He blinks and looks in Raylan’s eyes, frowning, fighting for consciousness, “Sorry I was so high when I saw you again, baby.”_ _

__Raylan smiles. “If you hadn’t been there, and high, maybe you wouldn’t have found me. So, I’ll let it slide this one time.”_ _

__Boyd grins and lets his forehead fall to Raylan’s shoulder. After a few minutes like that, Raylan shakes him, murmuring, “Let me pull the sleeper out.”_ _

__Boyd groans and Raylan replies softly, “I know, but I’m gonna get a crick in my neck and my legs are gonna go all mushy. Come on now.”_ _

__He pushes Boyd off him gently and rises, going into the kitchen, which is large and sterile looking. He gets Boyd a glass of water and makes sure that he drinks it while he searches for which section of the damn sectional is the sleeper._ _

__“I don’t suppose you know which one it is,” he asks Boyd, whose glass is empty and head is resting on one of the arms._ _

__He shakes it slightly. “Nope. We just dropped our shit off earlier.”_ _

__“Whose place is this?” Raylan asks, then, as his hand comes around that catch between the cushions, he adds, “Ah ha.”_ _

__“Lilah’s family--her brother--they’re all millionaires somehow,” Boyd mumbles. “The fuckers.”_ _

__Raylan snorts. “You must really hate it, hanging around them all the time. Comin’ down for weekends in South Beach.”_ _

__Boyd just pouts at him. Raylan throws him a puzzled look._ _

__There’s a blanket tucked in the folded mattress, and Raylan spreads it out across the bed. He doesn’t even have to ask Boyd to climb in it, he just goes. Raylan pulls off his jacket first, and then his pants and shirt and Boyd gives him a look like, why hadn’t he thought of that, then follows._ _

__Raylan smiles at him, which again quickly turns into another furrow of confusion._ _

__“What?” Boyd asks, sidling in close and pulling Raylan’s arm around him._ _

__“I don’t remember you being so cute when we were younger,” Raylan tells him._ _

__Boyd laughs. “I never was. Enjoy it now, asshole, ‘cause I won’t be tomorrow.”_ _

__“Isn’t intoxication supposed to expose people’s true personality?” Raylan asks. He smiles when Boyd pouts again, his eyes falling closed. He kisses him softly._ _

__Boyd says, “Shut up, Raylan,” when their lips part. Then he presses even closer, tangling their legs together and grasping at his hip._ _

__If Raylan was even a slightly less decent person, he’d think hard about initiating something. But he dismisses the idea. He wants them both to be sober if they are going to decide to start things up again. There’s shit they have to talk about, figure out. He wants them both to be on the same page, to not be confused about anything. Leaving shit ambiguous always gets Raylan in trouble, and he isn’t about to fuck this up with Boyd--not on their second, and probably final, chance._ _

__“I’m so glad you’re here,” Boyd mumbles, halfway to sleep. “I missed you.”_ _

__He’d said that before and Raylan wasn’t sure if he could believe him--not when he’d been the one doing the leaving all those years ago. But he sees no reason to think he’s lying now, only a breath away from unconsciousness._ _

__“Me too, baby,” he replies and closes his eyes._ _

__“Raylan,” Boyd asks a moment later, as he was just drifting away. “You ever think about goin’ home?”_ _

__Raylan frowns. “To Harlan?”_ _

__“Maybe. Yeah.”_ _

__Raylan doesn’t have to think about that at all. “Fuck, no.”_ _

__

__Boyd wakes slowly._ _

__He doesn’t wonder where he is or who is with him, which, if he’s being honest, does happen from time to time. He just smiles when he opens his eyes to see that Raylan is still here, next to him, sleeping soundly and looking hardly older than when Boyd left him._ _

__He makes a face then, thinking of Raylan’s speech about him to his friends the night before, about how brave he was, how they don’t really know him. Boyd lays beside Raylan and wonders if Raylan ever really knew him, either. He wasn’t brave then. He was desperate. And he left him there._ _

__He wonders if Raylan’s forgotten that._ _

__He glances at the time on the television display. It’s early, just before seven. Boyd never sleeps long from a come down. He feels tired, but not like he could sleep, just like he doesn’t want to move or think or speak. He just wants to lie there and stare at Raylan some more._ _

__He’s going to pretend it’s not creepy._ _

__Lilah and the boys must still be sleeping. Boyd feels himself go tense with anxiety and embarrassment over how they treated each other the night before._ _

__He should know not to push Dalton’s buttons about how close he is with Jonathan. He’s never been the type to be jealous, but he knows it when he sees it and he knows Dalton just needs some time to grow into himself in their relationship. He can’t believe Raylan was a witness to such juvenile bullshit._ _

__Raylan’s phone rings suddenly from the pocket of his jeans he left lying over the back of the couch._ _

__Boyd’s not entirely sure what to do. It’s the weekend now, but he’s got a hunch that the type of job Raylan has apparently found himself in doesn’t really let you not answer your phone on the weekend._ _

__He draws his hand across Raylan’s forehead and around to cup his cheek. Raylan shifts and blinks his eyes open, sleepily. “Raylan, your phone’s ringing,” Boyd tells him softly._ _

__There’s something lovely in Raylan’s eyes, something bright, that enters them when he looks at Boyd. But he closes them quickly, sighing, “Shit,” and twisting to retrieve the phone. “Givens,” he says into it and Boyd’s face breaks out into a grin._ _

__He loves that. It’s so weirdly professional._ _

__“Yeah,” Raylan says, looking at Boyd a little weird for the grin. “I’m coming in. Why would you think I wasn’t?” There’s chatter across the line. “Well, I’m only ten minutes late right now. I’m on my way, Karen, Jesus. I thought you said you weren’t going to be my mother.” He rolls his eyes up to the ceiling as she answers, then freezes and replies snippily, “Well, Marks got it fucking wrong. I was not _tackled_ by a gang of tweakers last night in the street. Don’t you think I would report an incident like that?”_ _

__Boyd can clearly hear her, this Karen, reply, “Only if you didn’t like it.”_ _

__Raylan hangs up the phone._ _

__Boyd’s looking at him, concerned. “Are you going to get in trouble?”_ _

__Raylan looks at him quickly from where he’d been wrangling his clothes. “What? No. Why would you think that?”_ _

__“On account of me last night, in the street.” Boyd is ridiculously embarrassed. That was wildly inappropriate and surpassingly presumptuous. Jesus, Raylan might not actually want anything to do with him._ _

__Raylan smirks, shaking his head. “No way, Boyd. Karen’s just being an asshole--if you heard that, which I suppose you did. She’s my partner. She won’t tell on me for being late, she’ll get shit too. And she’s just busting my balls because she had to cover for me last night and this morning. I’ll owe her one and we’ll be fine when I get her back.” His smile evens out as he meets Boyd’s eyes. “Everything is fine.”_ _

__“Oh,” Boyd says. He feels suddenly so weird. He sits up on the mattress and faces Raylan as he continues to dress. He doesn’t know if he should do the same, or stay, or--he’s never this uncertain in the morning. He realizes in the next moment, it’s because he’s always the one going out the door._ _

__Raylan turns, his shirt half buttoned and he catches Boyd’s face in his hands. “Hey,” he says, “So, I’ve got to go, but can you, um, do me like a really serious favor?”_ _

__Boyd’s brows rise. “Of course.” He puts his hands over Raylan’s wrists. “What is it?”_ _

__Raylan scrunches up his eyes as he looks at Boyd, almost like he’s too bright to see. “Please don’t leave town before I see you again.”_ _

__Boyd’s heart plummets into his stomach and he thinks he’s going to be ill in a moment. He can’t beleive--or doesn’t want to, he supposes--that Raylan would think he’d do that. He has to remind himself again how it was they left it, or he left it. It shouldn’t be a surprise that Raylan would think he’d run off again. What should be is that Raylan even wants Boyd to stick around after all this shit from before and from last night._ _

__“Baby, I’ll go with you right now,” he says earnestly. “Just give me a minute to get dressed. You can put the cuffs on me. I swear, I’m not going anywhere.”_ _

__Raylan makes a face that turns into a smile. “Oh man, that would go over well with Dan--my boss,” he laughs at Boyd’s confused expression._ _

__“Don’t do that,” Boyd protests, grasping harder at his wrists, heart beating like a racehorse. “I thought for a second you had a boyfriend.”_ _

__“Who me?” Raylan jokes. “The straight boy?” His eyes flash and Boyd’s getting whiplash._ _

__“Shit, Raylan, I gotta clear some shit up with you.”_ _

__Raylan smiles, understanding. “I know. I can’t take you in in cuffs though, asshole. However much I’d like to. And I really have to go or Karen’s going to skin me. Do you know where our office is? Can you meet me there for lunch?”_ _

__Boyd grins. He hasn’t fucked around with handcuffs for a while. He finds it utterly amazing that Raylan would even allude to such a thing._ _

__He licks his lips and says, “Sure. Anything you want. I’ll find the place. What time is lunch?”_ _

__“How about 12:30?”_ _

__“Perfect.”_ _

__Raylan’s eyes search his face. For what, he’s not sure, so he tries to look as open as he can, as honest. “Raylan, I can’t leave Miami until tomorrow. Lilah booked me on the 6:00 pm flight.”_ _

__Raylan makes an uncertain face. “I’m not sure that would stop you, Boyd. But I believed you before you aren’t going anywhere. I just...” He doesn’t seem to have a way to end that sentence ready._ _

__Boyd gets up on his knees and moves to the edge of the bed to press closer to Raylan. “I am so sorry,” he says and means it. “It was a stupid thing to do to you. And I want to tell you why, but--”_ _

__“But I really have to go,” Raylan finishes for him. He kisses him quick, so quick Boyd barely registers it before it’s over and Raylan is pulling away. He gives Boyd a hard look as he shrugs his jacket back on. “I meant what I said to your friend last night, Boyd. You ain’t gonna like it, I have to come find you. Now, I know what you said just now, but I’m gonna say that again too.”_ _

__“Okay, Raylan,” Boyd says. “Whatever you need to do.”_ _

__It isn’t until after Raylan been gone for five minutes that Boyd realizes he could have just given him his phone number._ _

__

__Because he doesn’t have any way to contact Raylan, Boyd goes to the Marshal’s office really early._ _

__He finds out from Lilah, before they depart for breakfast and the beach, that the offices are just across the causeway downtown, and also that if Boyd doesn’t want to spend any money at all, he can walk there. So he does._ _

__It takes him about 45 minutes and it’s hot outside, but the scenery is beautiful and there’s a breeze over the bay._ _

__Once he gets there, he’s still an hour early, so he sort of hangs around outside in a nice sunny courtyard, idly wondering if there’s a library nearby or a doctor’s office where he could steal a magazine. He doesn’t want to go up to the offices yet, because that would be weird. Raylan wouldn’t want him there, he has work to do._ _

__He doesn’t really go anywhere, he just dozes on a park bench, checking his watch every once in a while and worrying he’s going to get a sunburn. When 12:15 rolls around, he goes into the building and catches sight of a pretty woman standing in front of the sign with all the offices and their corresponding floors, with a cell phone in her hand and Kentucky coming out of her mouth._ _

__“Answer your goddamn phone,” she growls. “Lord.”_ _

__Boyd doesn’t normally do this, and definitely doesn’t think that he should since he’s going upstairs to see _Raylan Givens_ , but this woman is goddamn gorgeous, so he sidles over to her and gives her a casual smile. “‘Scuse me,” he says. “Sorry to interrupt, but is that a Kentucky accent I hear?”_ _

__The woman turns her big blue eyes on him and he sees a flash of irritation before she gives him a strained smile and answers, “Why, yes it is. I’m from Lexington, originally. But live in Georgia now.”_ _

__“Well isn’t that something, so do I,” Boyd replies. “Atlanta, you?”_ _

__“Glynco,” she says, her fingers tightening around a manila folder in her hand. “Maybe not for long though.”_ _

__Boyd decides not to say he’s from Harlan, sometimes it lulls the conversation. The elevator opens behind them and he motions towards it. “Going upstairs?”_ _

__She makes a face like she doesn’t want to. “Might as well. I came all this way.”_ _

__Boyd lets her walk in first and goes to the buttons, pushing the sixth for himself. “Which floor?”_ _

__She glances over. “Oh, the same.”_ _

__Boyd lets the door close and then he turns to her. She’s got a pretty blue dress on. It’s a professional cut, but she’s pulled her hair back into a sleek ponytail, presumably because it’s the weekend. She has extraordinary cheekbones and a lovely pointed chin. Boyd can’t actually recall the last time he’d seen a more beautiful woman._ _

__The ride isn’t long, but as they hit the 5th floor, Boyd asks her, “Do you mind if I ask your name?” She throws him a funny look, so he says in explanation, “I know some people in Lexington, is all.”_ _

__She smiles too politely. There’s no way he’s getting her number. He doesn’t even feel that bad. “It’s Winona Givens,” she answers, her smile turning ironic, as she fingers the edge of her folder, “but again, not for long.”_ _

__Boyd knows he’s looking at her like she’s crazy. “What do you mean, by that?”_ _

__She makes a face, an adorable one at that, of apology. “Oh, sorry to be so cryptic. My soon to be ex works here now. He’s been dodging my calls and I need him to sign some papers so I can get...uh, married again.” She makes a really embarrassed face now. “Why did I just tell you that?”_ _

__It takes a great effort for Boyd to stop himself from smacking his own face, but he waves a hand, shaking his head too, like he needs to clear it. “No,” he mumbles, feeling sort of sick. “It’s fine.”_ _

__The elevator doors open and she turns to him when he doesn’t step out immediately. “This is your floor too, right? I think only the Marshals are on this one.”_ _

__He settles his shoulders and looks at her, forcing a smile of his own. “You’re right.” He can’t think of an excuse not to walk in there with her that won’t be strange. He hopes he can linger in the doorway after she finds Raylan and make it look like he’s there for someone else until she leaves._ _

__Of course, it doesn’t work that way, as Raylan comes out of some conference room immediately to their left as they walk in. He sees Boyd first, because he’s closer, and a bright, wide smile breaks across his face._ _

__“Hey,” he says, clearly pleased to see him, and then freezes as he catches sight of Winona. “He-ey,” he adds, his voice breaking uncertainly._ _

__Boyd is trying to convey his sincere apologies via a cringing expression, but Raylan wisely keeps his eyes on his ex. It’s too bad, Winona’s looking straight at Boyd. “You’re...here to see Raylan too?”_ _

__Boyd looks at Raylan for help. Usually, he’d be all over this, but right now, he really doesn’t want to make things any worse._ _

__“Winona, this is, uh, my old friend, Boyd Crowder,” Raylan says. His eyes fall to the folder in Winona’s hand. “Seriously? Why didn’t you just mail it?” His voice is harder now, brittle. “You think I wasn’t going to sign?”_ _

__Winona’s not listening to him. She’s staring at Boyd still. “Your old friend Boyd Crowder,” she repeats, like she’s wondering if she heard right._ _

__“From Harlan,” Boyd adds, wondering if she’s looking for clarification._ _

__Her eyes are big now and she looks him over like she hadn’t bothered to in the elevator. Boyd took care with himself before he left the penthouse, so he knows he looks pretty good._ _

__His hair has been tragically thinning over the past year, so he’s cut it shorter than he likes otherwise and it probably looks a little windblown from his walk. Maybe he did get too much sun, but he wears that fairly well usually. He’s got a blue and white striped t-shirt on and slim cut jeans. Nothing fancy, but cool enough to wear if he was going out again later._ _

__“Yeah, I know,” Winona says. She bites her lip and turns to Raylan, her eyes going hard. “How was I supposed to know what you’d do, Raylan? The last time we spoke you threatened not to and then you never picked up again.”_ _

__Raylan rolls his eyes and grabs at the folder, practically tearing it from her hands. He pats his pocket, searching for something, and when he comes up empty, he motions across the room. “Now, I’m gonna take this over to my desk where I have a pen, so I can sign it for you. You think you can let it out of your goddamn sight for that long?”_ _

__Winona just raises her eyebrows at him and he turns away fast._ _

__Boyd busies himself looking at his feet. He’s about to retreat over by the elevator again, but then doesn’t, wondering if that will only be more awkward once she’s ready to leave, when she says, “You know, I had to get him wasted before he’d tell me about you.”_ _

__Boyd tilts his head, looking up at her. Her expression is considering, curious. “Oh yeah?”_ _

__She smiles softly, nostalgic. Boyd figures it wasn’t always bad times. “Well, I had to get myself drunk enough to ask first.”_ _

__“What did he say?”_ _

__“He said you were the reason he was always so...open about things. That you were the bravest person he’d ever met and he wanted to follow your example.” Her eyes are searching his face for something and Boyd isn’t even sure what his expression might be revealing._ _

__“He’s out?” Boyd could smack himself for asking her that. He should have asked Raylan himself. He should have asked him last night._ _

__She shrugs. “He was always out to me. He never made a big deal out of it, so I,” she laughs a little then, he thinks at herself, “I tried to pretend it wasn’t a big deal to me either. The night we met, he was out with this cute boy he picked up at a coffee shop. But he was moving to Denver in a month and after that Raylan went out with me.”_ _

__Boyd wants to ask her more about it, but she turns when Raylan comes back over and thrusts the folder back into her hands. “You wanna check?” he growls._ _

__“No,” she says frowning, but does anyway, paging fast through the documents._ _

__Boyd really wishes he hadn’t been present for the actual dissolution of Raylan’s marriage._ _

__She looks up from the papers at Raylan and Boyd sees her back straighten as she raises her chin._ _

__“Winona,” Raylan starts, a question in his voice and Boyd really really wishes he wasn’t present for this. He feels as though if he moves, they’ll remember that he’s there and he really doesn’t want that either._ _

__“I already told you why, Raylan, so don’t ask me again. I think we’re done now, so I hope,” she glances over at Boyd--so much for going unnoticed. “I really hope you enjoy the rest of your weekend.” She turns to Boyd and holds out her hand. He takes it as she says, “I’d say watch out for his mean streak, Boyd Crowder, but I think you probably already know about that.”_ _

__Boyd frowns, but forces it away so he can smile as he says, “Thanks,” a little uncertainly as this is probably the most surreal interaction he’s ever had, and he’d also lived through the previous night._ _

__She doesn’t look back as she walks away, but Raylan waits until she’s disappeared into the elevator to say, “So, I wanna go change my clothes. Care to come with me to my place? Then we can go get some food or something.”_ _

__Boyd beams. “Sure, Raylan,” he says. “Whatever you want.”_ _

__Before they leave, Raylan needs to sort out some paperwork on his desk, so Boyd hangs out by the door and pretends not to notice the woman from last night, presumably Karen, eyeing him up and murmuring something to Raylan as he puts on his hat._ _

__Raylan shakes his head in answer and turns away._ _

__When they are finally alone in the elevator, it’s Raylan who makes the first move, pressing Boyd up against the wall and kissing him soundly and sighing hard, like he’d been holding his breath for too long._ _

__Boyd moans, unable to decide what to do with his hands, as Raylan presses his palm to Boyd’s crotch. He gets up between Boyd’s legs, rubbing at him like they’ve got all the time in the world, when the tiny bell dings and Raylan pulls away as the doors open._ _

__“Shit,” Boyd mutters, looking up fast as Raylan, who somehow still looks put together, says, “Oh, hey, Dan.”_ _

__Raylan’s boss is maybe a foot shorter than him, especially with that hat on, but he still looks like a badass. He sort of reminds Boyd of this guy he blew a couple nights in a row at a club in New York. He’d said he was head of security for one of those Wall Street companies. He bought Boyd a 200 dollar bottle of champagne._ _

__Boyd realizes he’s grinning stupidly at the man, as soon as he looks between him and Raylan like he’s not sure he missed something._ _

__“Raylan,” he says, holding the elevator door. “You leaving?”_ _

__Raylan smiles. “I was hoping. I filed all the shit Karen said you wanted. I got this friend in town. I thought I’d show him around.”_ _

__Dan looks back over at Boyd at the exact moment he’s wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. Boyd suppresses the desire to tell them both he’s not usually this awkward._ _

__“Dan, this is Boyd, a friend of mine of back home,” Raylan says._ _

__“Uh, hi,” Dan replies clearly not sure why Raylan is bothering to introduce them, or perhaps wondering whether that was some kind of euphemism. They move out of the elevator as Dan moves in and Boyd has to suppress a laugh now, because other people are waiting to get on the damn elevator too. “Listen, Givens,” Dan says, still holding the door, “you can take the rest of the weekend, I don’t care. Just remember, you’re on call if something comes up, and don’t shove it on Karen again, all right?”_ _

__Raylan smiles, very accomodating, very grateful. “Sure, sure, Dan. Thanks.”_ _

__He pulls Boyd with him as he turns towards the door._ _

__

__Raylan lives, or so he says, just inside the neighborhood of Little Havana, in a three storey building of apartments._ _

__Raylan gets his hands on Boyd again as they walk up the stairs. They lean hard on the railing and the wall as they may their way to Raylan’s door, not in a hurry. Raylan’s lips are leisurely as his steps and Boyd keeps pace with him, remembering how frantic everything seemed when they were young, how they didn’t know it didn’t have to be that way._ _

__He smiles into Raylan’s kiss as Raylan pushes him up against the door._ _

__“Want me to fish out your keys?” he asks._ _

__Raylan holds them up and the jingle lightly in his hand. “Way ahead of you.” His voice is almost raspy in its breathlessness. Boyd gets hard thinking he’s done that to Raylan’s voice and it sounds so nice because he’s older and he sounds so gruff all the time and worn. Boyd likes that he’s smoothed him out a little._ _

__Raylan kisses him again as he fits the key into the lock, pushing his knee up again into Boyd’s thigh. He moves his hand from the back of Boyd’s neck, letting it fall down to his crotch._ _

__“Jesus,” Boyd moans and Raylan laughs._ _

__“Turn the fucking key, Raylan.”_ _

__Raylan laughs again into his mouth and does._ _

__They stumble together into Raylan’s tiny place. From the scant look Boyd bothers to give it, it seems like it’s a living room/kitchen deal, with a bathroom then a bedroom down a tiny hall. Boyd gets Raylan’s tie in his hands and is quick to undo the knot, slipping it off his neck with a little pressure that he can feel gets Raylan excited._ _

__“You gonna keep that hat on during?” Boyd asks him._ _

__Raylan grins, sinking his fingers onto Boyd’s hair. “You want me to?”_ _

__“Only if you tell me where you got it,” Boyd says as he leans away to pull off his shirt. Raylan helps him, still smiling, still walking him backwards towards the bedroom._ _

__“Picked it up in Texas, on a manhunt comin’ back over the border. Took it home with me, jus’ ‘cause it fit.”_ _

__Raylan’s got his hands on Boyd’s ass now and he rolls his eyes back as he closes them. “I bet you tell all the girls that story,” he murmurs._ _

__“And all the boys,” he replies, voice rough._ _

__“Oh my god, Raylan,” Boyd groans and pulls him hard down the hall. The door to the bedroom is closed and Raylan makes sort of a, “huh” noise into Boyd’s mouth, but he’s not about to stop and ask any questions. He just gets his hand on the knob and turns, busting it open with his backside._ _

__It’s only when he hears a strangled yell of, “ _Jesus Christ_ ,” in a thick backwoods accent from behind him that he tries to stop their forward motion. Raylan’s not paying even that much attention and keeps them going so they stutter to a stop and tip over onto the bed, even as a pair of skinny legs and arms, naked and white, try and pull away and out from under where they’ve fallen._ _

__“ _Shit_ ,” Raylan’s growling. “Michael, what the fuck are you still doing here?”_ _

__“Aww man.” Boyd turns to see that Michael is a skinny kid, not even 20, Boyd guesses, with dark hair and wide, blue-grey eyes, who’s pressing his back up against Raylan’s headboard and clutching the sheets around his privates. “You didn’t come back last night, Raylan. I swear I was gonna sleep on the couch, but like--you didn’t come back!”_ _

__A wide grin splits Boyd’s face, so hard it’s hurting. Raylan’s forehead is pressed tight against his shoulder and he’s muttering, “shit, shit shit,” and all Boyd can do is laugh, “Raylan, I didn’t know you kept a rent boy.”_ _

__“Aw, fuck, man, don’t--don’t say shit like that,” Michael says, clearly upset. “Raylan, is this your boyfriend? You didn’t say you had one, I’m so sorry, dude. You didn’t come back, and I gotta say your couch isn’t so great for sleeping so I just--”_ _

__“Son, son,” Boyd says, twisting in Raylan’s arms. “Don’t worry about it.” He gets a better look at the kid and sees he’s fit, cute, and definitely at least a four on the Kinsey scale. “You wanna get in on this?”_ _

__Raylan pulls himself up at that and cries, “ _No_ , Jesus, no.” He glares at Michael, “I told you, we weren’t gonna fuck again.”_ _

__Oh, shit, Boyd was just kidding, but he dances his eyes over to Raylan, who looks so embarrassed. It’s incredibly endearing--and Boyd suddenly realizes, remembers, “This is the one you said reminds you of me?”_ _

__It sort of fell out of his mouth before he could think it might be better to wait until the kid was out of the room._ _

__Michael, the darling, blushes beet red and his eyes dart to the door._ _

__“Sorry, sorry,” Boyd says as Raylan gives him a withering look and scrambles over him to stop the boy from darting away._ _

__“I didn’t mean to--”_ _

__“Shut up,” Raylan says firmly, and oh, Boyd loves that. He thinks about the night before, and Raylan taking his friends to task, keeping charge, looking hard. “Boyd’s an old friend. He ain’t my boyfriend, okay? We were just...catching up. If I ain’t here, sure you can sleep in my bed. I get the couch is shitty. I just thought you’d be heading home by now.”_ _

__Michael shakes his head, eyes still wide. Boyd knows this afraid, knows it’s not because of Raylan or him. Its because of home and what he’ll find there, be there--nothing like himself. “I-I just didn’t want to see them yet and you didn’t come back so…”_ _

__“That’s fine. I told you there was a place when you needed one and I meant it. Boyd and I, we both know where you’re coming from, son. Just...maybe don’t sleep naked in my bed and like, put a sock on the doorknob if you’re in here, okay?”_ _

__“Okay,” Michael says and looks like he’s about to cry._ _

__Raylan puts a hand on his shoulder and Boyd's not sure if either of them notice the tension in the boy's muscles ease. "Okay," Raylan says too, searching for patience. "Now, you wanna...like, go take a shower or something? Or..."_ _

__"Yeah," Michael says eagerly. "I'll, uh, get out of your way. And I--I should just go home, I mean. I told 'em I was camping, but like, I've never been that into it before and..."_ _

__He trails off because Raylan's frowning at him._ _

__"What?"_ _

__"Well, I won't tell you how to handle your shit, but just, be careful, kid. Don't dig your hole any deeper and if you need to get out, just do it. Come here. Okay?"_ _

__Michael's eyes are still very wide. "You said just to crash."_ _

__Raylan makes a pained face and he glances at Boyd like he sort of wishes he wasn't there for this. Boyd's not going anywhere though. "I know what I said, just--I know where you're coming from, son, I told you that too. Boyd an' me, we were careful, but, if something bad happens, if shit goes south and you might get hurt if you don't get out of there, _do it_. You can stay here."_ _

__"I don't--I don't think they'd..." Michael trails off again, his eyes going distant and his breathing speeding up a little._ _

__Boyd feels a wave of intense sympathy for this boy who seems to have just realized exactly how much danger he could be in._ _

__"I don't wanna scare you, kid. I just want you to listen, all right? And remember what I said." Raylan's voice is so soft and his mouth is set in a grim line, which he forces into a reassuring smile just as Michael looks up at him. "Stay as long as you want," Raylan tells him. "Just get the fuck out of my bed."_ _

__After Michael scrambles out, pushing past Raylan like it’s a race to the bathroom, he pauses in the doorway and looks back over his shoulder at them, particularly at Boyd. His eyes fall to Boyd’s hands and something warm fills up his eyes as he cocks a grin at them. “Hands like that,” he says, his voice going smooth and strong, and oh this boy, Boyd thinks, “you must be a sculptor.”_ _

__He raises his eyes to meet Boyd’s and Boyd just can’t help it, he laughs at him, softly, but it’s there. “I tend bar,” Boyd tells him, grinning. “But that was real sweet, son.”_ _

__The kid shrugs, like it was worth a shot, and closes the door behind him._ _

__Raylan turns to him with raised brows. “A bartender, huh?”_ _

__Boyd guffaws. “A goddamn U.S. Marshal, Raylan?”_ _

__They’re still laughing as they pull each other close again. They kneel on the bed and pull off each other’s jeans and shorts and it’s Boyd that gets Raylan on his back, pinned down, to kiss him thoroughly then work his way down. He murmurs all the way, “You want me to blow you, baby? It’s been so long, Raylan, I got a thing or two to show you.”_ _

__Raylan groans and arches into where Boyd’s lips are kissing him. He’s got his balls held gently in his hand already and he just breathes real slow on him before he says, “It’s gonna be so good for you, Raylan, it’s--”_ _

__He pauses when Raylan stiffens and pulls him up again, frowning._ _

__“What?” Boyd asks, stricken. “What’s the matter?”_ _

__“Why do you think you gotta do that with me?” Raylan asks, brows furrowed. He almost sounds hurt._ _

__“Do what?”_ _

__Raylan pulls his hands up to Boyd’s face and kisses him, slow again, sweet. “I know, Boyd. I know it’s gonna be good. You know why?”_ _

__Boyd doesn’t answer._ _

__“Because you get me goin’, boy. You always did. You look fucking amazing these days, and you’re in my bed in Miami, Florida, and today I got officially divorced. I cannot wait for this fucking blow job, all right? I know it’s gonna be amazing. You don’t have to tell me, like I wasn’t going to believe you otherwise.”_ _

__“Oh,” Boyd says and he feels really dumb._ _

__Raylan must see something uncertain in his expression, because he tries to smile as he says, “I know that’s how you used to do it for me and that was so great, Boyd. You knew what I needed. You always did. But I’m okay now. I know a lot better about this stuff, about myself. I meant what I said last night--it was because of you.”_ _

__Raylan starts kissing him again, still slow, and he gets a hand around Boyd’s cock, which should feel amazing, but all he’s feeling at this point is...lost. “Raylan, I don’t know what you want now,” he makes himself admit before it becomes obvious that something is wrong._ _

__Raylan blinks at him in surprise. “Boyd,” he says, “what do _you_ want?”_ _

__Boyd doesn’t even really know. His thought process feels disturbingly like it did last night, where the only thing in his mind is that it’s _Raylan_ and how badly he wants to touch him. “I just want to touch you,” he says and his voice sounds so small. “I want to--to touch you and make you fucking come, Raylan.”_ _

__“Well, we can work with that,” he answers smiling. He tilts his head at Boyd then, like he just thought of something. “Are you always so concerned about your partner?”_ _

__“I can be greedy,” Boyd replies, almost defensively. “I can tell ‘em what to do, if--” he stumbles a little because he’s hearing how he sounds even as the words come out of his mouth. “If that’s what they want.”_ _

__Raylan kisses him again and murmurs, “Okay.” Then says, “okay,” again, as though maybe Boyd didn’t hear it the first time. He’s pushes Boyd onto the bed now, bracing his arms on either side of Boyd’s shoulders, kissing him until he lies flat. He pulls back slightly, to look in Boyd’s eyes as he says, very clearly, “I don’t want you to touch me yet.”_ _

__Boyd doesn’t move as Raylan slides down his body. He kisses him along the length of his stomach and upper thighs, breath ghosting over him along with lips, light on pressure, heavy on tongue. Boyd moves his hands up to grasp at the headboard._ _

__He’s going to do what Raylan wants._ _

__Raylan looks up, sees what Boyd’s done, and smiles warmly, then bends to lave up the underside of his cock. Boyd groans loudly and he feels the huff of a pleased laugh against his sensitive skin._ _

__“You remember what you told me when I asked you how to do this the first time?” Raylan asks softly._ _

__Boyd blinks. He doesn’t. “I was so happy I had you,” he says, his voice weak. “I don’t know, _oh_ ,” he moans. _ _

__Raylan’s swallowed him down, but he’s not doing anything else. Boyd know he wants him to say. “Said somethin’ stupid,” he mumbles. Raylan’s sucking him now, doing a damn good job. He pauses though, teasing, and Boyd remembers he’s supposed to be talking. “Made no sense--what I said--but you asked…” He has to think about it and he’s so hard now and it feels so good, he can’t think at all. “Asked-asked me...somethin’...”_ _

__He’s so close now, but he thinks then of something that’s stayed with him, because it was what made Boyd think he really did love Raylan, even that first time._ _

__“You didn’t believe me when I said you were beautiful.” The words come out all in a rush and Boyd wonders if Raylan’s heard him because he just keeps going and, oh, Boyd’s coming now and it’s _wonderful_. He moans through it, arching up, and Raylan goes with him. _ _

__He swallows most of Boyd’s come and pulls off to let some dribble down his chin. He’s breathing hard as he wipes his hand across his mouth, pulling himself up farther on the bed to where Boyd’s lying spent. He takes himself, erect, in hand and starts jacking, his eyes, wide and dark, stuck on Boyd’s face._ _

__“No one ever called me that before,” he murmurs._ _

__Boyd’s brain isn’t quite caught up with his mouth and he’s too busy watching Raylan jerk off to think before he says, “That ain’t it. You never believed me.” He watches Raylan’s hand move, faster and faster, and can’t look away, not until Raylan’s breath hitches and he jerks his eyes up. They stare at each other while Raylan’s breathing gets heavier and heavier and Boyd barely registers asking, “What do you want me to do?”_ _

__“Nothin’,” he grunts, eyes full of something. “Jus’ wanna look at you.” His mouth quirks and he gives a great heave, coming in spurts all over his stomach. He’s gasping breath as he falls back against the headboard and he’s still staring at Boyd. His smile is something glorious to behold as he sighs, “Think you might be the prettiest thing I seen in a long time, baby.”_ _

__Boyd takes Raylan’s face between his hands then and kisses him soundly, until he is sprawled over Raylan on the bed and there is slowly cooling come all over both of them. “Is your shower big enough for two?” he asks smiling down at him._ _

__Raylan makes an uncertain face, but replies, “We can make it work.”_ _

__The kid is gone when they leave the bedroom. Raylan finds a note written on a paper towel that just says, “Thnx,” before Boyd pulls him into the bathroom._ _

__The shower is not really big enough for two, so they have to alternate standing underneath the spray, while the other presses up against the wall and shivers. Boyd turns the hot water up to compensate and the skin on both their backs is red when they’re finished._ _

__Boyd watches Raylan dress in a t-shirt and the same pair of jeans he was wearing yesterday and that morning. He retrieves Boyd's clothing from the living room and the bedroom floor and looks him over again as Boyd dresses._ _

__Boyd throws him a puzzled look. "You really that impressed by what I've got goin' on?" He remembers, Raylan never used to look at him for long when they were young._ _

__"You'd rather I was shy about it?" Raylan asks, tilting his head. He looks Boyd in the eye and it's Boyd who glances away first._ _

__"No," he admits and almost says he'd just rather Raylan weren't so different. Boyd doesn't feel as different as Raylan seems. It's off-putting and exciting in equal measure. He puts on a smile. "I just have to get used to it," he says._ _

__Raylan takes it like a dig at him instead of Boyd's own self and turns away shrugging. "You look good, asshole, all right?"_ _

__Boyd turns him around and kisses him again. "Raylan, if I haven't said the same goddamn thing to you, it's because you look so fucking good, I'm not even sure my brain has processed it all the way. Damn, son, you are one sexy, badass, motherfucker."_ _

__Raylan makes a face. "I wasn't fishing for compliments either."_ _

__Boyd grins and pats his face before he plants another soft kiss to his lips. He's not sure if he's disappointed or not that the boy still can't take a compliment._ _

__Raylan picks the restaurant and drives them there, back into Downtown, explaining there's a bunch of places nearby his apartment but that he can't guarantee Boyd won't get food poisoning. "I don't want to ruin your night," he says with a wink and Boyd puts a hand across his mouth._ _

__The place they go to is Cuban anyway and Boyd figures Raylan's trying to give him some of the local flavor. When they're seated, Boyd glances at the menu then quickly away, looking up at Raylan and smiling at the way he’s set his hat on the table._ _

__“What are you going to get?” Raylan asks, still looking down at his choices._ _

__“Oh, I ain’t really too hungry. I don’t think I’m gonna eat, but don’t stop on account of me.”_ _

__Raylan gives him a suspicious look, but only thins his lips and looks back down. “Could have said something earlier.”_ _

__“You said you wanted to go eat,” Boyd reminded him. “I’m fine. Truly. I’m just not going to have anything.”_ _

__“Well, I’m gonna get this chicken thing and the yuca fries.” He says this like he’s throwing a gauntlet._ _

__Boyd smiles. “Good for you, Raylan.”_ _

__The waiter comes over for their drink order, and Boyd is slightly peeved he asks for Boyd’s choice first. “Water is fine for me, thank you,” he says and braces himself for Raylan’s reaction._ _

__“So, you won’t eat with me and now you ain’t gonna share a drink with me either?” His eyes are dark, upset, but he’s trying to hide it. He also still looks suspicious, his brows drawn down towards a crease of skin above his nose._ _

__Boyd is struck for a moment by the irony that he can accept an all expenses paid vacation from his rich-girl friend, but he can’t admit to Raylan that he’s done that and therefore has no money either on him or in his bank account. He only replies, “I’m on a cleanse.”_ _

__Raylan doesn’t buy the lie so much, he laughs in his face, as though Boyd was making a joke._ _

__Maybe he was._ _

__Raylan turns to the waiter then, still smiling, and says, “I would like two lager drafts, the chicken special with yuca fries, and a cuban sandwich. And can you cut the sandwich in half, please?”_ _

__“That’s a lot of food, Raylan,” Boyd says after the waiter has gone._ _

__“Fuck you, Boyd. I don’t care if you don’t have any money. I just want to eat a meal with you and fucking catch up, okay?”_ _

__Boyd juts his jaw and nods, looking down, then right back up at Raylan, remembering his pride. “Okay,” he says simply._ _

__They sit in a silence that isn’t quite uncomfortable until the waiter arrives with their beers. Boyd takes a sip of his first and offers a conciliatory smile to Raylan who returns it whole-heartedly. They raise their glasses, but don’t toast anything in particular--Boyd, because he feels whatever he’d be moved to say would be far too sentimental, and Raylan for reasons only he knows._ _

__After another moment, Raylan says, “So, I suppose you’re curious about...Winona and the, uh, collapse of my marriage, since you were so unfortunately subjected to that. You can ask me about it--if you want.”_ _

__Boyd smiles. “That’s very nice of you, Raylan. But don’t force yourself to--”_ _

__“Just ask if you got a question, asshole. I want you to know about my life.” Raylan’s tone is so bluntly honest, Boyd has to stop himself for sitting back in his chair, as though the words were coming at him like a blow._ _

__He decides to attempt to shake himself of any pretence he thought he could have with Raylan. He feels as though he should have remembered he’s not the type of man to suffer it gladly._ _

__“What was it you loved about her the most?” Boyd finds himself asking._ _

__Raylan’s eyes widen at the question and he takes a big gulp of his beer before he answers, smiling, “She doesn’t take my bullshit. And, she’s really funny.”_ _

__Boyd grins. He was expecting at least some description of her physical attributes. “Raylan,” he says, “I believe you. But I’ll be honest, I am fairly sure you’ve forgotten to take into account that she’s got the face of a goddamn angel.”_ _

__Raylan nods sagely. “She is the most beautiful woman I believe I have ever seen.”_ _

__Boyd cocks his head and makes his eyes grave. “What happened?” he asks softly._ _

__“You want to know what she says or I think?”_ _

__“Both.”_ _

__Raylan huffs a laugh. “She says I wasn’t… present. Or, she didn’t feel supported or something,” he shakes his head as he speaks, like he doesn’t believe her. “I don’t know. Maybe. She says it started when I was still in the field--”_ _

__“Aren’t you now?”_ _

__“Oh, yeah, but I wasn’t in Glynco. I was teaching firearms instruction. I hadn’t been for like five years. She said I wouldn’t share things with her.”_ _

__“Would you?”_ _

__“I used to try. I mean, she never reacted well. I started to avoid it.”_ _

__“And her, I suspect.”_ _

__Raylan gives him a look full of old wounds. “I was working on it. Am. Working on it.” He takes another drink and Boyd does the same._ _

__“I believe that too, Raylan,” he says and the pain in Raylan’s eyes eases. “What is it you think happened?”_ _

__Raylan shakes his head. “I don’t wanna pretend to think she don’t know what she’s talking about.”_ _

__“I don’t think that you do. You must have some other insight, though, than what she told you. It doesn’t make either less true,” Boyd assures him._ _

__Raylan’s eyes meet Boyd’s head on as he answers, “We were talking about the easy and the hard path last night.”_ _

__Boyd nods. He remembers the gist of the conversation, if not most of the words that were spoken._ _

__“I never… I don’t think I ever found a path that was easy.” He smiles, deprecation deep in the expression. “It just doesn’t sit well with me and I think she got tired of it.”_ _

__“Aren’t you tired of it?”_ _

__Raylan shrugs. “Aren’t you tired of keeping things so easy? We are who our natures dictate, is my experience. I don’t think I can change it much, but she doesn’t have to live with it and I’m gonna try to be more honest about it, I think.”_ _

__The waiter arrives with their food and Raylan waves the sandwich in Boyd’s direction, so he plants the plate in front of him. Raylan gives him a significant look and says, “I asked them to cut it in half in case you don’t want the whole thing. If you want some of this, we can split ‘em both, okay?”_ _

__“All right, Raylan,” Boyd says with a soft smile and picks up one of the halves. It’s a really great Cuban and Boyd is starving._ _

__

__“I thought you said you didn’t want that,” Boyd says to Raylan._ _

__They are naked on his bed again and they are both, Raylan is pretty sure, day drunk._ _

__They’d finished their meal at the restaurant talking about much more innocuous things than Raylan’s marriage or the million questions Raylan’s trying to stop himself from peppering Boyd with at all moments. It pretty much consisted of what Boyd’s friends are like--assholes--how he’d met them--because he’d fucked Jonathan--and what they did together--drink, mostly, and make fun of each other._ _

__It reminded Raylan of college, which shouldn’t surprise him since the terrible twins, as Boyd mentioned sheepishly he thinks of them, were only two years graduated._ _

__Before they went back to Raylan’s place, he’d grabbed a six pack from a corner store and he and Boyd had drunk half of it while making out on his couch._ _

__Now they were in his bed, having spent a good amount of time playfully undressing each other--something Boyd seemed delighted by, as Raylan would never have done such a thing when they were younger--and Raylan had just told him, “I really want you to fuck me.”_ _

__“That was the first thing you told me.” Boyd’s looking at him like he’s grown a second head. “It’s really okay, Raylan. We don’t need to do everything.”_ _

__Raylan huffs. “Boyd, I ain’t no kid anymore. I thought we talked about that and, seriously, I’m shocked you didn’t figure being fucked was _exactly_ what I wanted soon as I told you something stupid like that.”_ _

__Boyd just stares at him for another minute, and Raylan’s beginning to wonder if they’re going to do anything at all, before he says, “Oh,” very gravely, then smiles so prettily it’s as though it was nothing, already forgotten. He leans in close, kissing Raylan soundly, and asks, “Got any lube?”_ _

__“What am I?” Raylan returns. “Some kind of asshole?” He leans to the right and fumbles in the drawer for the bottle._ _

__They fool around a little more after that and Boyd has his hands everywhere, teasing and laughing in turn, clearly having a fucking ball. Raylan can appreciate that, most of the sex he’s had recently has been quick fucks with strangers and before that sex with Winona had been tinged with an anger neither of them could shake. It made for an intense experience, but that got exhausting after a while._ _

__Raylan feels like he hasn't had fun in the bedroom in far too long. Boyd is like a breath of fresh air._ _

__Except he’s taking so goddamn long to get started._ _

__“Come on now,” Raylan finds himself saying to Boyd’s busy lips. Boyd’s hands are on his ass now and Raylan’s getting real hard. “We gonna do this, or what?”_ _

__Boyd pulls back suddenly, his eyes wide and looking more so for being so turned on. It’s gratifying Raylan can get him this worked up. “Are you nervous?” he asks like it’s a fucking foreign concept. He leans forward fast and puts his ear to Raylan’s chest, where his heart is beating wildly. “You are.”_ _

__Raylan just makes a face at him when he pulls back again._ _

__Boyd smiles like God just gave him a gift. He puts his hands on either side of Raylan’s face. His fingers are soothing somehow, in the way he’s moving them in tiny, waving circles across Raylan’s skin. “You just got divorced,” Boyd says, like that’s news. He frowns finally, like he’s working something out. “When’d you get married? Twenty-five?”_ _

__“Twenty-four,” Raylan answers softly._ _

__“She said you were with a boy, but he moved away. And...you didn’t know what you wanted--Raylan, you ever been fucked before?”_ _

__Raylan’s mouth twists unpleasantly and his heart finds a second-wind for racing as he says, “No.” Then he scowls. “Winona told you I was with Cody?”_ _

__“Cody?” Boyd asks tilting his head to the side and sliding his lips to Raylan’s. “That’s cute.”_ _

__“Yeah, he was,” Raylan says, not ready for Boyd to nuzzle his frown away. “But he was too Mormon to fuck me, all right?” He feels too tense now._ _

__“That’s fine, baby, that’s fine,” Boyd soothes, pulling closer. “All that means is I get to pop another one of your cherries.” He says that like it’s the funniest thing in the world._ _

__Raylan can’t stop a laugh escaping his lips into Boyd’s ear. “You know, I’ve always hated that expression.”_ _

__Boyd pulls his legs apart, to get closer. “You want back or front?” His hand is on Raylan’s cock._ _

__Raylan blinks. “What?”_ _

__“Your knees or your back, baby?” Boyd is one big smile._ _

__“I’m not sure if I can…” Raylan stumbles, frowning._ _

__“What do you want, Raylan? We can do whatever you want.”_ _

__Raylan reaches for his face. “I want to look at you.”_ _

__He realises Boyd’s already got the lube on his fingers._ _

__“Perfect.”_ _

__Raylan got Winona to play with his ass a few times, not in a while, but Boyd’s fingers are a lot less uncertain. A lot bigger too. He groans and throws his head back, pushing against the mattress. Boyd smiles down at him. “You like it?”_ _

__“Open me up,” Raylan grinds out and he see Boyd’s eyes widen. He obliges._ _

__By the time Boyd is done working him open, Raylan is panting, his cock straining hard. Boyd reaches for him, but Raylan shakes his head. “Wait,” he says, not recognizing his own voice, he sounds so desperate. “Get inside me first, baby,” the words come slow and he watches Boyd’s jaw drop slightly at them._ _

__“Okay,” he says. “Think I must be dreaming,” he murmurs absently as he’s lubing himself up._ _

__“Come on,” Raylan urges. “Fuck--”_ _

__He can’t speak anymore because Boyd’s thrust his cock inside him. He’s not sure when he wrapped his hands around the top of the headboard, but he’s grateful, because he needs something to hold onto._ _

__It feels like nothing he’s ever experienced. It feels like something, like Boyd, is filling him up, like everything is rushing up, making him dizzy, his heart race, his eyes screw shut. He moans and Boyd touches his cock and oh, fuck, there’s a rush of something warm and Boyd’s clinging to him tight, pumping furiously and breathing in his ear, “Jesus, I just fucking came,” and that is it for Raylan._ _

__For the second time that day, he comes all over his stomach._ _

__This time, he doesn’t move for a few more minutes._ _

__Boyd gathers the blanket that’s fallen to the floor and wipes them both off a little as Raylan gazes at him, eyes heavy-lidded and a little hazy. He feels really good._ _

__“You surprised me,” Boyd murmurs to him, eyes still dark--though it could be because the light is fading. The afternoon’s gone now. Raylan’s not really sure where it went._ _

__“Where’d you go, Boyd?” he asks, no longer able to hold back the question._ _

__Boyd smiles, softly, like he knew Raylan was going to ask, just not when. “Where else? New York,” he says, drawing his fingers up to brush a strand of hair from Raylan’s face. “Everyone told me to go to a city. So I went to the biggest one.”_ _

__Raylan smiles too. Of course._ _

__“An’ you’re,” he frowns as he asks, he doesn’t mean to, “a bartender?”_ _

__“Why you gotta ask like that?” Boyd returns. He doesn’t sound mad. Raylan thinks they probably both feel too good for mad._ _

__“I just...thought you’d do something else.” Raylan studies him for a moment, then adds, “Do something creative. I always thought you’d make things--do things that people love.”_ _

__“People don’t love drinks?” Boyd is too light, Raylan thinks. He’s trying to make it easy again, not just good._ _

__Raylan gets a hand on Boyd’s cheek, digs deeper and draws it down to his neck. “Talk to me,” he says._ _

__Boyd’s eyes are so wide._ _

__“I thought,” he says after a moment, and his voice is smaller now, somehow. “I thought that I would maybe go to school. I thought about film, or, or art. I never painted anything, but--or writing. Mama said--” He breaks off there, and Raylan draws his and back up, catching Boyd’s lips with his thumb. He closes his eyes and continues, “I didn’t meet the best people. I know that now. They wanted me where I was, doing for them what I was doing. And I went the easy way. I let them distract me. And tell me I couldn’t--or didn’t need to. And I never did.”_ _

__When he opens his eyes for Raylan again they are full of the darkness he remembers from the old days. They aren’t masked, or lightened. They aren’t smiling._ _

__“I wanted to be what they wanted. I wanted to love them ‘cause they loved me--” his mouth twists into something attempting a smile. “Or some of them did.” He shakes his head. “I thought all of it was the same.”_ _

__“You were so young,” Raylan tells him._ _

__"I haven't changed that much, Raylan." He says that like it's something terrible. Raylan's not so sure. He always thought Boyd was so beautiful, and not just on the outside._ _

__"Did you want to?" he asks._ _

__Boyd shakes his head, uncertain. "I never felt myself grow very far away from the boy who knew you. And I thought that was okay, but now--I don’t know anymore."_ _

__Raylan touches his face again and prompts a soft smile from Boyd, not one masking anything, but one that was small and just there because Raylan touched him. "You think 'cause I seem so different to you, that you should be different too?"_ _

__Boyd doesn't answer, but he doesn't look away either._ _

__"Growing up doesn't always mean changing, Boyd." Raylan thinks he should probably stop pretending to be so wise._ _

__Boyd's smile stretches. He's laughing at Raylan softly. "I'm not sure I believe you, baby. You'd probably say anything right now to make me feel good."_ _

__Raylan makes a face of grudging agreement and Boyd's still laughing, which is a sweet sound, so Raylan pulls closer and kisses his shoulder, into the crook of his neck. He smells lovely and warm. It reminds Raylan of the best parts of the past and the places he left behind._ _

__"It's early to sleep," Boyd tells him and Raylan realizes he was dozing. He groans. Boyd's got a hand in his hair and is running his fingers through. "We should go get dinner somewhere."_ _

__Raylan shakes his head. "Let's order in," he mumbles._ _

__"I should get back with Lilah and the boys," Boyd murmurs._ _

__Raylan sniffs and pulls slightly away. "Don't," he says selfishly. "Stay with me until you have to go." Raylan's not the kind of man who often deconstructs his own desires, especially not when he wants them as badly as he wants Boyd to be just his right now. He doesn't think about why he wants this so much, and he doesn't try to hide the knowledge in his eyes that he's asking for a lot._ _

__He wraps his fingers around Boyd's wrists, thinking about handcuffs again. Boyd looks down at his hands and smiles._ _

__Boyd's smile is like something out of a morning after memory. He remembers that it used to make him want to do things and say things, but over the years he'd forgotten exactly why. He thinks it's like Winona's beauty which had struck him like a blow to the face that afternoon--the longer you're away from it, the less power it holds in your mind. Boyd's smile is the same way, only it seems a lot more powerful because he hasn't laid eyes on it in fifteen years._ _

__Raylan kisses him because he's gone too long without doing that._ _

__"Where do you keep your menus?" Boyd asks between breaths._ _

__"I ain't hungry y--" Raylan breaks off, stiffening as he hears the front door open and then a crash from the living room._ _

__He's up and out of the bed in a moment, glancing fast at Boyd and confirming his watchful eyes and tensed limbs. His mouth is shut and he looks at Raylan's sidearm on the bedside table before he does. Some things, Raylan thinks, Boyd wouldn't dream of changing. He slips on his boxers and picks up the weapon, holding it lightly and pointed to the floor. He's wracking his brain--he hasn't been in Miami long enough to piss anybody off, professionally or personally._ _

__As he nears the door he hears muffled muttering of curses. He looks at Boyd again, who is perched at the end of the bed, still watchful. Raylan turns the knob slowly and steps out into the room, moving his sidearm up, and then away quickly behind his back before Michael looks up at him, bleary-eyed and mournful from where he's presumably fallen to the floor. "Shit, son," Raylan breathes. "You scared the hell out of us."_ _

__"I'm _sorry_ ," Michael moans. He puts his face in his hands and shakes, his whole body quivering. He doesn't get up. "I--you said I could come if--and I was trying to be quiet, but I tripped over your beer because it's so dark in here and..."_ _

__He begins to sob, though he keeps his cries so quiet, pushing down until they break free in stuttering wet heaves. "I'm-I'm so so sorry, Raylan."_ _

__"Kid," Raylan says, approaching him slowly, "what happened?" He kneels down next to the boy, seeing that his clothes are muddy and half-soaked. He glances out the window, it hasn't rained as far as he can tell. Boyd's come around behind them from the bedroom. He's pulled his jeans on and is bending down to pick up the empty and full beer bottles Michael scattered across the floor._ _

__Michael looks up again. His lip is split._ _

__"Did someone jump you?" Raylan feels a surge of anger rush up through him. His mouth is drawn down in a deep frown._ _

__His eyes widen, like he's afraid and Raylan twists his mouth, trying to reign it in._ _

__"N-no. That's not--" he breaks off and starts to cry again._ _

__Boyd comes around to his other side, kneeling on the floor as he gives Raylan a look like he's an idiot. "Sweetheart, shh," he says, pulling the quivering boy close. "Hush now. You're safe here."_ _

__Raylan sucks in a breath that's more embarrassed than upset. He sits on the floor too and watches as Michael practically melts into Boyd's embrace, sobbing in earnest now, and shaking his head. Boyd looks at Raylan, his features grave, as he reaches up to run his fingers through the boy's curls, in much the same way he had Raylan's. He watches them as the boy calms his breathing a little, Boyd still murmuring soft, hopeful things at him. Raylan stands and fetches a glass of water and a warm rag._ _

__When he comes back, Boyd has Michael's face in his hands and is thumbing the cut in his lip gently. The boy winces and Raylan passes Boyd the rag. "Hush," Boyd says again and wipes at it, clearing some blood away. "Look what Raylan brought you. You gotta drink that now that all that water's on your outsides instead of in."_ _

__Michael chokes on something like a laugh and reaches for the water gratefully. He's still quite close to Boyd, who is rubbing soothingly across his back. Raylan meets Boyd's eyes and raises his brows slightly. Boyd twists his mouth a little but nods and says softly, "Take your time."_ _

__Michael looks up again, first to Boyd, then turns around to Raylan._ _

__"Son, please tell us what happened," Raylan says._ _

__"I-I went home," Michael answers, eyes welling up again. Boyd makes a noise like he knew already, like he wished he hadn't. “An’ Uncle Cal, he was right on the porch and Mama was there with Gram--”_ _

__There’s a sinking feeling in Raylan’s stomach and he reaches for the boy, who--and who knows what he’s thinking--moves right out of Boyd’s arms and into Raylan’s. He presses his forehead into Raylan’s bare shoulder and speaks to his boxers._ _

__“Uncle Cal went to the camp an’ he wanted to know why I wasn’t there. I-I couldn’t say truly, so I lied an’ said Kevin Wayland--no, I-I was so stupid--I didn’t say him yet. I said I was helping somebody from high school move to Miami U. I said I hadn’t lied about it ‘cause he called me when his other ride fell through. Th-they asked me who it was--Uncle Cal did. He was so angry and he--I thought he didn’t know about me, I really did--but he just kept _asking questions_. I told him it was Kev I was helping and h-he jus’ said, ‘So you are a fag.’” Michael paused, taking a gulp of breath and Raylan pressed his lips to the crown of the boy’s head, his still damp hair. _ _

__Raylan met Boyd’s eyes again and he was sure they were thinking the same thing. They were so lucky--lucky they had grown up more careful than this boy, that their fathers didn’t give a shit where they were at any given time, that they‘d never been the sort of boys that people just _knew_ about._ _

__“Why did he say that?” Boyd asks quietly, when Michael doesn’t continue._ _

__“Because he said Kev told his family that--that he’s gay and Uncle Cal heard about it ‘cause he’s a Deacon--”_ _

__“Oh, Lord,” Raylan murmurs. “Baptists.”_ _

__Michael snorts. “Right?” He pulls away slightly and looks shame-faced between them, like he can’t believe he sobbed all over them, like they’re probably about to kick him out on his ass again._ _

__“Uncle Cal’s always askin’ me where I go and who I’m with. I jus’ never thought…” He looks at Raylan with huge eyes, red-rimmed, and wet. He looks like a damn puppy and Raylan pats his head again. “I was so stupid.”_ _

__“It ain’t stupid to think your family loves you no matter what,” Boyd says and Raylan meets his eyes again._ _

__“Uncle Cal doesn’t love anything ‘cept Jesus and his F-150. Maybe the ‘gator he keeps tryin’ to kill, I guess.”_ _

__“He sounds like a great man,” Raylan deadpans and the kid snorts again. It’s a little wet, though, so it sounds more like a sneeze and Raylan can’t stop thinking about puppies. Boyd’s giving him a funny look._ _

__“Anyways, he split my lip when he slapped me ‘cause I said maybe I was and he’d better get used to it,” Michael continues, a little breezily, like it wasn’t a big deal at all. “An’ I--he got the shotgun from his truck s-so I got the hell out of there. I, uh, had to go through some swamp ‘fore I could hitch a ride.”_ _

__Raylan tightens his jaw._ _

__“Where’s your daddy in all of this?” Boyd asks softly._ _

__“No daddy. Not for a while.” The kid’s looking down now._ _

__“And your mama?”_ _

__“She was cryin’ on the front porch with Gram and Gabe and Mary--my brother and sister. She didn’t do nothin’ though. They--”_ _

__“All right,” Raylan says, pulling the boy up with him. “How about you get cleaned up, huh? Did you eat today?”_ _

__Michael shakes his head. “I was just tryin’ to get back here.”_ _

__“We’re gonna order something. What do you want?”_ _

__His eyes go wide. “Anything?”_ _

__Raylan shrugs. “I mean, yeah. If we can find a place close by.”_ _

__Boyd stands and goes over to the fridge where Raylan’s has stuck most of his carry out menus with magnets._ _

__“Can we get _sushi_?” Michael asks like it’s something magical. “And-and...milkshakes?”_ _

__Raylan snorts. “Uh…sushi, yes, but--”_ _

__“If we order from this place, we can get bubble tea,” Boyd offers, looking over his shoulder at them._ _

__“What’s that?” Michael asks and Raylan reaches for the phone._ _

__He lets Boyd explain that the bubbles aren’t real bubbles as he calls the restaurant, a good one just down the street, and orders the boat, figuring that will be enough for all three of them, and a good excuse to let the kid try nearly everything on the menu. He orders them three different kinds of bubble tea too._ _

__The food arrives as Michael’s coming out of the shower. Boyd and Raylan have broken out Raylan’s Jim Beam in the living room._ _

__The kid has only a towel on and is shaking tiny drops of water from his hair. He eyes the booze and Raylan says, “You really think I’m gonna provide liquor to your underage ass?”_ _

__Michael pouts._ _

__“If it was just me, sweetheart, we’d have no problem,” Boyd says apologetically as he opens up the large container of food. Michael sits down on the floor at the edge of the coffee table._ _

__“And then you’d get charged with a felony,” Raylan says, smiling and pointing his finger at Boyd. “You gonna put some clothes on, kid?” he asks Michael, who just shakes his head._ _

__“Mine are all wet still. And I’m really hungry, Raylan.”_ _

__Raylan decides not to argue as Boyd raises his brows about the felony thing. “In this scenario, you ain’t here, Raylan, so I wouldn’t get caught.”_ _

__“Says you.” Raylan pops a steamed shrimp in his mouth._ _

__He notices the kid’s watching them carefully. Boyd hasn’t seen, or he’s ignoring it. He’s only got eyes for Raylan, who he nudges with his foot, as if to say, of course he’d never give an underage kid a beer. Raylan knows different, but he smiles anyway. Boyd sort of sways closer to him, and Raylan can’t tell if it’s deliberate. If it is, he’s a master at this, because Raylan momentarily forgets the kid is even there anymore, when he was just thinking about him a moment before._ _

__“You sure you ain’t boyfriends?”_ _

__“What?” Raylan asks a little foggily._ _

__“You said he wasn’t your boyfriend, when I was here before. That must be bullshit.” Michael raises his chin a little, as if daring them to disagree._ _

__“We ain’t,” Boyd says smiling. He puts his hand on Raylan’s arm and Raylan has to still a shiver. His fingers are long and warm._ _

__The kid looks down at the food now. “You didn’t get any forks,” he says._ _

__Boyd laughs as Raylan reaches for the chopsticks. “Come on, son, you seen these things before right?” He holds the cheap wooden sticks, still wrapped in paper out at him. “You just gotta snap them apart.”_ _

__“Man,” he says, looking vaguely perturbed. “Those are only for Chinese people, right?”_ _

__Boyd sobers immediately and pokes his chopsticks in Michael’s directions, “Son, I learned this the hard way. You keep your ignorant hillbilly mouth shut and follow other people’s lead and they won’t know how truly fucked up you are, okay?”_ _

__Michael’s eyes go wide. “Shit. Really?” His face drains of all color. “Oh man, what did I say?”_ _

__Raylan tries to give him a smile. “Sure you can use a fork, son, but you’ll just look like an asshole. Even more than if you fuck up using the damn chopsticks, now let me show you.”_ _

__Raylan spends the next five minutes trying to show Michael how to pick something up with his eating utensils. Until he wails, “Oh my God, Raylan, I’m _so hungry._ ”_ _

__Raylan pats his head again and carefully doesn’t look at Boyd. “Just use your hands for now, kid. But don’t come cryin’ to me when you look like an asshole next time someone wants to take you out for sushi.”_ _

__Michael looks a lot more determined at that, even in just a towel, and tries valiantly to squeeze a nigiri between the sticks long enough to thrust it into his mouth. Boyd and Raylan clap when he finally makes it._ _

__“Sweetheart, just eat a bunch now,” Boyd says. “Raylan and I had our share, you been at it so long, and you’re hungry. You’ll get plenty of practice, okay?”_ _

__“Don’t forget to stick it in the soy sauce,” Raylan says, sipping at his bubble tea and stretching out on the sofa, leaning hard into Boyd, who easily lets him. Raylan shivers again when Boyd’s hand slides up his arm._ _

__Michael is still watching them, a big piece of raw fish stuck in the corner of his mouth like a chipmunk or something. Raylan smiles at him. He’s feeling tired again, after the spike of adrenaline from a potential break-in and the stress from dealing with a sobbing kid. He’s full and Boyd’s still rubbing gently at his arm. He lays his head down on Boyd’s shoulder._ _

__Michael is frowning at them, even as he eats, and there’s something dark in his eyes as he considers them, some trepidation, some creeping fear._ _

__Boyd stirs a little, draws his hands up to Raylan’s hair. He closes his eyes as Boyd asks, “Sweetheart, what’s the matter now?” Michael must shake his head, because Boyd says, “Come on, now.”_ _

__“It’s stupid,” Michael croaks. “I chose this, I--” Raylan opens his eyes to see the boy fighting tears again. “You said you ain’t boyfriends.” The words come out strangely desperate. Like he needs them to be for some reason._ _

__“Michael,” Boyd says softly. “We’re not. We’re old friends from home, Harlan, Kentucky. We haven’t seen each other since we were 19, so no, we aren’t boyfriends. Not by a long shot. Why is this so important to you?”_ _

__“Th-then they were right. It’s just… _fucking_. That’s all it is, right? You fucked, I know you did. But you ain’t boyfriends and it’s--all this is is fucking, then--”_ _

__Raylan sits up quickly, pulling fast away from Boyd, who’s stiffened as well. “Son,” he tries, thinking of what poison this poor boy’s been fed his whole life. If he honestly believed chopsticks are only for goddamn Chinese people._ _

__But Michael shakes his head. “It was just fucking with me and you,” he says, looking still desperately at Raylan. “That’s what I wanted. I didn’t care, I--I watched them shows in the reruns when everyone was asleep--they just have boyfriend after boyfriend and you know they’re just fucking even if it’s tv and no one’s happy and that woman drinks all the time--”_ _

__“Are you talking about Will and Grace?” Boyd asks incredulously._ _

__“And Uncle Cal said so, but---oh, I want it _so much_ , all the time--” he’s clutching at his shoulders now, pulling in on himself and there are tears in his eyes again. “It’s all I can think about--I even wanted you still, when I thought you was boyfriends. I…” he laughs cruelly at himself, “I thought maybe you’d want me together. I thought that’d be fun--but that’s fucking--that’s d--”_ _

__Raylan lunges forward then, off the couch and grasps hard at the boy’s arm, pulling him closer, insistent. “ _Don’t_ ,” he says in a low voice. “Don’t you say that about yourself, or about me or about him. You been through something, Michael, tonight and for your whole life up until now. You been through fucking hell, all right? Don’t you put their lying words inside your mouth. It’s not anything they ever said it was and it’s _not. Just. Fucking_.”_ _

__“But you said--” his eyes are wide and he doesn’t continue._ _

__“I know what we said, honey,” Raylan lets the boy go because he’s pulling away. “That’s just us. We’re not seeing each other, and we don’t have no boyfriends because we’re fucked up--”_ _

__“Speak for yourself,” Boyd says softly. His eyes are stuck fast on Michael though._ _

__“I’m fucked up, then. I just got _divorced_ , kid. I thought I told you that.” He hears Michael let out a, “oh right,” under his breath and tries for a smile. “Boyd and I are both bisexual, we like _both_ ” he adds at the kid’s confused expression. “Sometimes people don’t get it. And not just people like your family. It makes it harder sometimes. But not all the time.” Raylan shakes his head. He feels like he’s fucking this up. “Lots of boys like you have boyfriends and keep them. It’s not like tv--Christ, don’t ever think anything on tv about a gay man is anything close to the truth son--”_ _

__“If that was the case we’d all be interior designers and talk with a lisp and live in New York City or LA,” Boyd says rolling his eyes. “And we’d either be battered or dead or dying of AIDS.”_ _

__Raylan thinks the “we” in that statement is a little interesting. He’s never identified as specifically gay--but he’s not about to have a conversation with Boyd about sexual identity in front of a boy who’s only real knowledge of himself comes from the skewed ideas of popular culture and his hateful relatives._ _

__“Kid, you gotta understand too, even if we’re not boyfriends--”_ _

__“And we’re not,” Boyd interjects and shoots him a look, not entirely sure why it matters so much to Boyd that they aren’t._ _

__“It don’t mean there wasn’t any feelings involved here,” he motions between them--him and Boyd. “Then and now. I mean, when we were nineteen, I was in love with him.”_ _

__Boyd stills very quickly and pulls himself away from Raylan._ _

__Raylan turns to him. “What?” he asks. It shouldn’t have been a surprise. Boyd must have known. And Raylan had said so just the night before, to his friends._ _

__Boyd’s eyes are wide and Raylan’s not sure he’s ever seen him so upset. “I-I forgot you said that, is all,” he replies and jerks his eyes over to Michael again, who’s looking between them as though he’s stumbled into a particularly soapy melodrama, like maybe he can go get some popcorn during the commercial._ _

__Raylan hardens the line of his mouth and stands. He pulls Boyd with him, looking down as the kid looks up at him. “Just because there ain’t no tried and true, socially acceptable traditions for how to navigate homosexual relationships don’t mean everyone treats each other like dicks and assholes all the time. You love somebody, you love them.”_ _

__“Even when neither of you knows,” Boyd adds quietly._ _

__Raylan sighs, a slow realization sinking into his stomach. He runs a hand through his hair and looks hard at Michael. “Stay out here. And I want to see you in the morning. Don’t go running off before we come out of there,” he says pointing towards the bedroom._ _

__“Okay,” Michael says carefully. “Sorry, Raylan.”_ _

__“Whatever,” Raylan returns, near the end of his patience. All he’d really wanted was to fuck Boyd all weekend and make sure they exchanged phone numbers on Sunday._ _

__Raylan pulls Boyd towards the bedroom now, and he goes easily. Boyd whirls on him as they come through the door, and presses himself close, kissing Raylan like he’s air or something, like he’s been holding his breath too long. It’s dark in the room, so Raylan can’t see his face._ _

__“I don’t want to talk about it,” Boyd says between kisses. “I should have known that. I didn’t--not until you said--and I completely forgot you said that--but I--I don’t want to talk anymore, baby.”_ _

__Raylan lets him kiss him for a few minutes, but he keeps them near the door, not moving in or out, just staying still and thinking, because-- “Boyd, remember I told you I was working on the stuff?”_ _

__Boyd tries for a sleepy smile, full of sex and want, but it’s so lacking in ease, it barely looks like a smile at all. “What stuff?” he whispers to Raylan’s neck._ _

__“The being honest stuff.” Raylan fucking hates this. “I gotta talk to you about this, about--I don’t want to do anything else until we straighten out this shit.”_ _

__Boyd pulls back. His eyes slide away from Raylan’s face and his casual smile is back, mask-like and Raylan hates that too._ _

__“It’s been a while, Raylan,” he says, like he doesn’t fucking know. “I’m kind of like the opposite of talking--”_ _

__Raylan cuts through that bullshit immediately. “Boyd, you talk to me or you walk out that door and we’ll be done. This is too important to me--you and me and all that passed between us--is much too important to pretend like it’s nothing. What did you fucking think I felt for you back then, if it wasn’t love?”_ _

__Boyd’s eyes go liquid and watery, a lot more like Michael’s for Raylan’s comfort currently, as he stares at Raylan and replies, “Honestly, Raylan, I thought so many things back then that were so far from the truth…” He frowns and starts again. “I thought you were with me just ‘cause I asked. Everyone I’d been with before--” he pauses to laugh almost bitterly, “they all said I was something special. Something great and surprising. I thought I was. I thought I did something, to get you to say yes and that--Raylan it’s so _stupid_ , I can’t--”_ _

__Raylan steps forward and pulls Boyd into his arms and Boyd goes, desperately clinging to him._ _

__“What are the odds, Raylan? That’s what always got me. What are the odds, you and me, we’d be looking for that--and you didn’t know until--”_ _

__“I know, Boyd,” Raylan says. It’s not as though he’d never thought about that before--that Raylan would truly desire what Boyd had offered him. That they’d have both grown up together, so close, and never known until then, or ever found out at all. Raylan gave Boyd all the credit for that. He’d been so brave._ _

__He pulls back and looks Boyd in the eyes. He touches his face. “You know, though? You know it wasn’t like that.”_ _

__“I,” Boyd says, and takes a breath. “It took so long. People told me you can’t do that--not even in conversation directly, like, you know it’s a thing people say. I believed them, it makes sense. But--it’s so hard Raylan, to pull yourself past that bullshit. I don’t think I ever believed it completely, not about you.”_ _

__Raylan sighs again, and presses his lips to Boyd’s forehead._ _

__Boyd goes on, the floodgates are open now. “And I didn’t tell you any of that then because I had to be what they told me I was. I had to be so good for you, and I had to know, and I had to be what they said--”_ _

__“Baby, you didn’t have to do that at all,” Raylan protests._ _

__“I _know_ ,” Boyd wails. “But I--I thought if you knew, if it wasn’t the way it was supposed to be, maybe you’d change your mind and I didn’t want you to. I didn’t want you to go, either. I loved you too, _so much_ \--but I was so proud and I-I thought, if I left first, it wouldn’t hurt so bad. It wouldn’t be like you were leaving me.”_ _

__Raylan pulls away at that, and can’t stop himself from levelling a hard eye at Boyd. “But it was okay for you to leave me?”_ _

__Boyd looks stricken and he clutches at Raylan’s elbows so he can’t move farther away. “You wanted to go so bad, Raylan. I knew Harlan was bad for you, but I couldn’t imagine you wanting to leave if you loved me like I--”_ _

__“That’s incredibly unfair,” Raylan hisses at him. “So, fucking--”_ _

__“I _know_ ,” Boyd says again. “Raylan, _please_ , I didn’t want to talk about this. I didn’t want to tell you, because it’s so unfair--I didn’t know anything.”_ _

__Raylan’s shaking his head, but he knows he asked for this._ _

__“And you never asked me to come, I thought--you were always talking about leaving. About how we couldn’t do one thing or another because you’d be _gone_.”_ _

__Now Raylan feels as though he’s done something terrible. He’s thought about this before too. He should have asked him, but he’d been so blind. “I didn’t think you wanted to be tied down to me. I didn’t know either--it took me so long to realize…” Raylan makes himself say it. He’s pushed them this far already. “That _anyone_ would love me enough to do something like that.”_ _

__Boyd looks angry now, disturbed in a deep way, and he pushes Raylan around, almost herding him towards the bed where he gets him sitting up at the foot, and climbs right up into his lap--like he had the night before. “I hate him,” he growls. “I hate him so much.”_ _

__Raylan frowns. “Who?”_ _

__“Fucking _Arlo_ ,” Boyd grinds through his teeth, his hands are rough in Raylan’s hair as they stare at each other._ _

__“Fuck, Boyd. I don’t wanna talk about my daddy.”_ _

__Boyd almost laughs. Raylan can see it in his eyes and in the fast quirk of his lips, but it’s still half angry and he pushes it down in favor of some bitter irony. “Oh, _now_ you’re done talkin’?”_ _

__Raylan kisses him. Hard and heated and Boyd doesn’t need any more encouragement to shut up._ _

__Boyd gets them into some kind of zone in no time, one where he’s rocking softly on Raylan’s lap, and sucking on his lip, and grazing his teeth and fingernails somewhere tender every once in a while. The space between them is suffused with this warmth that’s full of heavy breaths and sounds Raylan’s not even consciously making._ _

__He’s thinking, somewhere in the back of his mind, that everyone who said so was really, really right--about Boyd being special, being some kind of magic._ _

__“Raylan,” Boyd has to say twice before Raylan responds with a soft grunt, a huff of air into his ear. Boyd laughs and Raylan closes his eyes. “Raylan, I know you said you didn’t want me telling you how it’s gonna be. But that’s too bad now, baby, because I know _just_ what’s gonna go down here and you’re not gonna offer no protests, are you?”_ _

__Raylan’s mouth has fallen open and Boyd’s kissing his jaw loose and heavy and rocking some more._ _

__“Are you?” Boyd breathes._ _

__Raylan shakes his head and remembers speech. “No.” His voice is jarring. It sounds too loud. “No,” he tries for a whisper and it comes out a croak because Boyd’s hand has fallen to his cock, messing around with his fly in a playful way that still seems somehow artful._ _

__He smiles wickedly as Raylan tilts his head back and exhales heavily. Boyd mouths along Raylan’s neck, leaning forward until he’s pushed Raylan into his back._ _

__“You think I don’t know what you like, Raylan?” Boyd asks, as if Raylan’s accused him of something. There’s a darker tone to his voice now and Raylan frowns at him vaguely._ _

__“What are you playing at?” he says breathlessly--Boyd’s still doing that rocking motion and Raylan’s too warm to catch his breath._ _

__Boyd’s fingers come down across his lips and he pushes Raylan head roughly to the side to silence him. “Shut your mouth,” Boyd says not unpleasantly, but with a certain authority Raylan hasn’t ever heard him use in the bedroom. He smiles again like he’s got a secret. Raylan’s cock is straining against his shorts which Boyd’s fingers have left exposed._ _

__Raylan wants to swear but Boyd’s hand is still across his mouth._ _

__“You think I don’t know what you like, asshole?” Boyd asks again. “Tell me not to fuck you,” he mutters, as though he’s pissed about it. “Ask me fifteen years later like I’m supposed to know.” He grins and takes his hand away, drawing it up and into Raylan’s hair, which he grabs at hard. “What else you want so bad you can’t ask for it?”_ _

__Raylan widens his eyes. “Oh, shit,” he murmurs._ _

__Boyd shows him all his teeth and Raylan must be going crazy because they look sharper than usual and he’s ridiculously hard already. “Oh shit, is right, Raylan,” Boyd croons to him, sliding down the length of him, pulling at his jeans until they come free from his legs. “What can’t you say?” he asks, not to Raylan, but more to himself, as though he’s just wondering now, and delighted by the prospects unfolding in his mind. He slides back up Raylan’s body and licks at his ear, whispering, “What’s locked away in the corners, Raylan? Where you don’t cast your eyes?”_ _

__“I remember,” Boyd says a moment later, drawing his hands in circles across Raylan’s bare chest--he doesn’t recall removing his shirt. “You used to like it real dirty sometimes, when we didn’t bother to shower off all the sweat and coal dust. You used to look at me like I crawled up out of the earth.”_ _

__Boyd’s still straddling Raylan, but now he hitches down again and gets a hold of Raylan’s erect cock, working it slow as his words._ _

__“And you used to make this _sound_ when I’d get rough, but you pulled away and I thought you didn’t want me like that--Oh, _Raylan_ ,” Boyd moans. “I know, baby, I know what you want--” he lets out a breathless laugh, like he can’t even believe it took him so long to figure it out and Raylan’s hips are jerking because Boyd’s hands are moving so good--it’s so good Raylan closes his eyes and lets Boyd’s laughter and his touch roll over him._ _

__“ _Raylan_ ,” Boyd calls, and he takes his hand away for a moment. Raylan moans for it and Boyd’s got his other hand on Raylan’s face. Everything warm and insistent is coming up around him in strange roiling waves and he only barely understands when he opens his eyes and Boyd tells him, “ _don’t come_.”_ _

__“What?”_ _

__“Raylan, you better not come ‘til I say so, or you’re gonna fuck this up for yourself--do you want that, Raylan?”_ _

__Raylan sort of groans a denial, guttural and strangled._ _

__“Comin’ now is too easy, huh, asshole?” Boyd asks him, more Harlan in his voice than before and Raylan’s cock gives a jerk. He hears the pure pleasure of being right in Boyd’s tone now. “You gotta go the hard way--that’s what you said, isn’t it? What else do you like _hard_ , Raylan? You want a man, knows what he’s about--maybe a lady too--either way works for you, it’s just gotta be what you want, baby, and I know, oh Raylan, I know what that is--Don’t come now. Remember what I told you.”_ _

__Raylan’s hands are fisted tight in the sheets, but he’s tensing up so much, trying to hold it back when Boyd’s talking him into a fucking frenzy--_ _

__“Come on now,” Boyd murmurs to him, leaning close to his ear again. He pulls Raylan’s hands up above his head and holds them there, even as he leans back down to reach for his cock. Jesus, is the man some kind of gymnast too? “You keep those up there.”_ _

__Raylan grabs onto the headboard again and Boyd says, “That’s real good, Raylan. Now, where were we?”_ _

__Raylan doesn’t think he can hold on much longer. His hand, Jesus Christ. “Boyd--”_ _

__“Oh, no, no, baby,” Boyd says as he fits himself to Raylan’s pelvis, rutting his cock up against Raylan’s own. Raylan hears himself cry out like something’s hurting him. His fingers tighten on the headboard and he can’t stop his hips from arching up, into Boyd, then jerking away from him._ _

__He doesn’t let up._ _

__“We’re not anywhere near done here, son. Remember, I know what you want. And you want _dark_ shit, Raylan. Shit you don’t wanna think about because, who likes that shit? Angry people, violent people, men like you don’t wanna be. But it’s okay, baby. You don’t have to be no way--you can want what you want. You want some cock in your face, don’t you? You want some come in your mouth, you wanna choke on him ‘til your jaw’s sore, you wanna feel that shit burn in your nose, he shot it so far into you--”_ _

__He breaks off when Raylan moans again. He takes his hands from the headboard and digs his fingers into Boyd’s hips, moving with the motion, wave after wave, words after word and it’s wonderful and terrible and--_ _

__“You want him to keep your mouth shut--make you swallow all that shit til it’s gone and you’re coughing with it and he’ll push you--”_ _

__Raylan’s hips jerk and he thinks he says something, but he can’t even understand it at this point. Boyd leans forward again and the swift, opposite friction makes Raylan hiss through his teeth until Boyd’s breath is at his ear again._ _

__“Come now for me, Raylan.”_ _

__And he screws his eyes shut and lets it go, all his breath leaving his lungs in a rush, all the blood rushing to his head, and whatever was left of him streaming out through his cock. His orgasm rips through him faster than he'd felt for a long time and longer, and he cries--he fucking howls through it._ _

__Boyd is still going, rubbing himself on Raylan, who looks up at him blearily for a moment before he realizes Boyd is just sort of riding it out, slowing down, as though he doesn't think he's going to get his._ _

__He scowls at him, shaking his head, not yet ready for words._ _

__Boyd's smiling like Raylan's a puppy who just performed a trick wildly beyond any reasonable expectations and he bends forward, running his fingers through the still-warm come all across Raylan's stomach and chest. "Oh, Raylan," he murmurs. "that was beautiful."_ _

__Raylan looks at him hard, and he sees Boyd realize something's up, but doesn't give him the time to ask, before he moves, with little of the grace he'd seen Boyd execute. He reaches down and closes his fingers around Boyd's cock, pushing Boyd's own away, and reaches up with his other hand fast, to cover his mouth._ _

__"Shut up," he says, and his voice sounds so strange._ _

__He pretty much barrels into Boyd then, thrusting him onto his back on the bed and swallowing him down fast from the side, so he can keep his hand over Boyd's goddamn mouth._ _

__Boyd grunts in surprise, but quickly relaxes. Raylan remembers, he was always so easy in bed, so ready to do whatever. He can feel Boyd's smile across his palm. He feels Boyd's breath streaming hot over his knuckles. If he hadn't just come for a century, Raylan would be hard again now. He moans over Boyd's cock and Boyd's breath hitches._ _

__Raylan goes faster, choking Boyd's cock down like he'd said--oh _shit_ , the things he'd said. His hand slips down and his finger catch in Boyd's open mouth. Boyd bites him, hard, before he realizes what he's clamping his teeth on, which makes Raylan choke again and then, oh fuck, he's sucking on them._ _

__Raylan curls his fingers as he cups Boyd's balls, feeling them shiver and he's coming, hard, into Raylan's mouth. Raylan swallows it all._ _

__He feels a little dizzy when he pulls off Boyd's cock. Boyd grins at him, when he pulls his fingers free. He feels himself smile, big and dopey, and it feels like the first time he's smiled in a year or something--which isn't true but--_ _

__"Raylan," Boyd says and his voice is hushed, like there’s a silence between them now that Boyd doesn't want to break, but can't resist either. "You're the prettiest thing I seen in a good damn while."_ _

__Boyd's hands are on his and before he can think about it their fingers are interlaced together and Boyd's pulling him down to lay sideways on the bed. They pull each other close and Raylan lets out a deep sigh that Boyd echoes a moment later._ _

__Raylan's thinking, that was was crazy, and that was great, in equal measure, but his body seems to be only thinking about sleep as Boyd's fingers are sweeping in circles through his hair._ _

__He lets himself go._ _

__

__Boyd is woken by a buzzing in the room._ _

__He shifts slowly and so does Raylan. There is a little give and a little take, but they end up just as close together as they were before. Boyd can still hear the buzzing. He wonders if it’s a fly in the room._ _

__He thinks after a moment, it’s too rhythmic, too steady--electronic._ _

__“Tha’ your phone ringin’?” Raylan asks Boyd’s shoulder. He grabs at Boyd’s arm when he tries to roll away, thinking he remembers leaving his jeans at the foot of the bed. Raylan pulls him back close. His eyes are still closed and Boyd wonders if he’s still asleep, thinks he’s still asleep, or wants to pretend he’s still asleep._ _

__“You want me to get it, or not?” Boyd asks, very near to Raylan’s face._ _

__“Think it’s an emergency?” Raylan returns, opening his eyes to reveal a clarity not at all masked by sleep._ _

__Boyd grins. “No.”_ _

__They kiss slow and leisurely for a little while, Boyd pinning Raylan down on the bed at his hip, thinking about morning head, though by the light of the moon it must be in that border time where it’s neither night nor day._ _

__Boyd wants to get Raylan back for that lovely gift of a blow job the night before. He grins slow into Raylan’s kiss, thinking about all that and all the things to come._ _

__“You want somethin’, Raylan?” he asks softly, ready to slide back down his damn long legs._ _

__Raylan pushes him back, smiling too, but in a funny way, a way that makes Boyd think Raylan is about to laugh at him._ _

__“What?”_ _

__“Look at you, cocky,” he says, eyes still dark in the pale glow through his window. “You got your groove back, huh? Sorry I threw it off so bad, baby.” His eyes are glinting almost evilly now._ _

__Boyd huffs then smiles, easy. “Well,” he says, running his thumb over Raylan’s jutting hip bone. “I know that’s how you like ‘em, Raylan. You liked that boy cocky, right? You like me cocky.”_ _

__Boyd can do cocky. He really really can._ _

__Raylan gives him a look like he’s a hopeless idiot. It makes Boyd sit up, back. What now?_ _

__Raylan sits up too, and pulls Boyd close again into his lap, like he’s some kind of wounded bird, liable to fly away and fall. Raylan noses up Boyd’s neck, breathing soft, but not kissing him. Boyd lays his palms on Raylan’s broad shoulders._ _

__“I like _you_ ,” he says._ _

__Boyd’s phone rings again._ _

__Boyd thinks about what he told Raylan only hours before, when they were locked together, breathing and sweating each other--that he didn't have to be any specific way._ _

__He knows Raylan's saying something quite similar, but Boyd doesn't think Raylan gets it. He doesn't think he _has_ to be some way for Raylan. He just wants to, because it's what Raylan wants._ _

__He thinks about telling him that, when Raylan finally groans, lying back and saying into his hands, "Oh, fuck it. Just pick it up."_ _

__Boyd climbs off him to look for his pants._ _

__He hits the button to answer fast when he see it's Lilah. He hears the sound of loud bass in the background and Lilah's voice coming from at least a few inches from the receiver._ _

__"--damn right, I'm gonna call that asshole again, he--"_ _

__"Hey honey," he says, hoping to get her attention. "I'm sorry I--"_ _

__"You're damn right, you sorry son of a bitch, Boyd Crowder," she says. Her voice is pitched higher than usual--Dalton likes to call this her raging harpy voice, though Boyd would never say something so uncouth. "Wandering of with God knows what law enforcement officer. Strolling outta the apartment with nothing but the clothes on your fucking back and no money--I know you don't have no fucking money, Boyd--"_ _

__"Jesus, I'm okay, Lilah," Boyd says, feeling a certain defensiveness come into his tone. He's a grown man, for Christ's sake. Raylan moves in behind him where he's sitting on the end of the bed. He presses his lips to the back of Boyd's neck, making him shiver. Boyd knows it's just so he can hear what she's screeching. "Are you still out?" he asks. It's obvious from the noise that she is. If she's had enough gin she'll be too feisty to handle. "Give the phone to Jonathan."_ _

__"No," she hisses. "I'm not done yelling, I--"_ _

__Boyd rolls his eyes. "Well, I'm not gonna come over to wherever you are so you can berate me for spending time with my old friend. I'm sorry you're pissed you didn't get your weekend the way you wanted it, but some things come first, honey. You should get home and go to bed, or you're gonna be even more pissed tomorrow. I'll talk to you then."_ _

__He hangs up and turns into Raylan's arms. He drops the phone on the bed._ _

__"She's got some control issues all tangled up in some kind of maternal complex," he tells Raylan, who's giving him an indiscernible look. "It only gets real annoying every once in a while."_ _

__"Like when she pays for your vacation and you totally ditch her?" Raylan asks frowning slightly._ _

__Boyd thinks he's about to tell him to go back to them, so he kisses him hard, pushing him back down on the bed. "It's late," he murmurs to Raylan's lips, playing with his hip bone again--it was a lovely thing--"I told her we'd talk tomorrow."_ _

__Raylan smiles, despite himself--Boyd remembers this was his most favorite of all of Raylan's smiles--and says, "Tomorrow ain't that far off."_ _

__"Let's make the most of our time then, huh?"_ _

__And, oh, do they._ _

__

__In the morning they wake up early, check on Michael, sleeping soundly on the couch, and go for breakfast at a waffle house about three blocks away._ _

__Boyd’s phone feels like it’s burning is his pocket. He doesn’t want to call Lilah, but he’s feeling increasingly guilty as the morning wears on and neither he nor Raylan has brought it up._ _

__Finally, after they order their food, Boyd pulls it out and places it on the table between them._ _

__Raylan gives him a conflicted look. “I wasn’t lying when I said I wanted you to myself,” he says._ _

__“Well, I won’t lie now and say I’d love nothing better than to let you have me, baby.” Boyd meets his eyes._ _

__“But you’re gonna call them.”_ _

__“I won’t if you tell me not to.”_ _

__“Fuck, Boyd, don’t put that on me.” Raylan looks almost mad now._ _

__Boyd knows he was right last night. He’s doing a shitty thing. Raylan knows it’s shitty too, to ask. He hasn’t asked again, he’s just stated his desires. Well, Boyd’s stated his too. He picks up the phone. “I guess we make each other decent,” he grumbles. He wasn’t even trying to put that smile on Raylan’s face. Something warm curls up nice in his belly though, when he does._ _

__Lilah only grunts and whines barely comprehensible things into the phone when she finally answers it. Boyd relays her the cross streets for the Waffle House they are at and tells her to wake up the boys, he and Raylan will wait for them._ _

__It takes them over and hour to get there, by which time Boyd and Raylan have finished their food and are smiling at each other--words are also involved but seem mostly inconsequential--over coffee._ _

__Lilah’s wearing dark glasses, even as she slides into the booth next to Raylan with pointed silence. Boyd rolls his eyes. “Hello to you too, darling,” he says to her._ _

__Jonathan and Dalton follow behind her and squeeze in next to Boyd._ _

__“I suppose you two had a good time yesterday,” Dalton says, drawling, as though they hadn’t. Jonathan makes the half-smile he usually tries to force off his face when the boy’s being over-dramatic._ _

__“What happened?” Boyd asks. Raylan’s eyes dart between them. He looks as though he’s enjoying himself already. Boyd thinks he must have blocked out how thoroughly entertained Raylan had been by his friends the other night._ _

__“Oh nothing,” Lilah sighs. “Dalton thought the beaches were too busy and the shopping was terrible. Both were fine. The club was trash though and you weren’t there to make fun of people with me while they,” she jerks her thumb in the direction of the boys, “tried and failed to not make out with each other on the dancefloor.”_ _

__Boyd just raises his brows at her. He isn’t about to apologize again._ _

__“Why are you trying not to make out?” Raylan asks, quite reasonably._ _

__Jonathan rubs at the back of his head and grimaces. “We’re doing this open thing. We thought we’d try to meet some new people while we’re down here.”_ _

__“It’s not working,” Dalton says, not entirely displeased, and throwing a fond smile in Jonathan’s direction. “He just can’t keep his hands off me.”_ _

__“Ugh,” Lilah groans, clutching at her head. “Shut up. It’s too early for that puppy-love bullshit.”_ _

__Boyd frowns as Raylan waves over the waitress._ _

__They all order a bunch more food and ask Raylan a bunch of questions, mostly about growing up with Boyd in Harlan._ _

__“No,” Raylan is saying. “We weren’t friends at all in high school.” He gives Boyd a look followed by a wink. “I thought he was kind of a self-absorbed asshole. Then again, so was I.”_ _

__Boyd and Raylan split a plate of fruit while Raylan patiently answers whatever they want to know._ _

___What was the thing to do when they were kids?_ _ _

__“Mailbox baseball or goin’ to the Dairy Queen. I shit you not.”_ _

___Is Boyd’s dad really a crime lord?_ _ _

__“Boss, I think I said,” Raylan answers. “He was last I was there, last my aunt told me anything about it. My own daddy used to break legs for Bo Crowder. And no, that’s not a euphemism.”_ _

__Boyd keeps his eyes on his cantaloupe rind and everyone is quiet for a bit after that._ _

__“What was the mine like?” Lilah asks softly._ _

__“Scariest shit I ever did and I’ve shot men in my new profession,” Raylan replies, sincerely. “It’s hot and claustrophobic. Loud.”_ _

__Boyd finally looks up. “You work in the mine, you’re living on the edge.”_ _

__All their eyes are wide._ _

__Boyd smiles. “Let’s talk about something else.”_ _

__“Must be weird,” Lilah says, ignoring his words, staring him down. “To walk away from something like that.”_ _

__Boyd shrugs. Raylan says, “Crazy not to.”_ _

__Lilah’s still looking at Boyd._ _

__He makes a face. “You learn to fill it up,” he doesn’t say, or really know, what it is needs filling, “with other things.”_ _

__She juts her jaw, but nods silently and then they do talk about something else._ _

__Raylan fills them in a little about his circumstances, mentions Winona._ _

__“And you met her?” Jonathan asks Boyd._ _

__Boyd grins. “Flirted with her before I knew who she was,” he continues over Raylan small noise of surprise. “ _And_ I met his twink fuckbuddy.”_ _

__There is a chorus of “what”’s and blasphemy and cursing, and all eyes on Raylan. Who actually looks a little pleased with himself. “He’s a sweetheart,” he says. “But a handful. You really don’t want to know.”_ _

__“Yes, we fucking do,” Dalton cries, affronted._ _

__Two hours later, they’ve racked up a sizable bill, even for a Waffle House, and Lilah is saying they have to get to the airport soon. Raylan makes motions to pay his tab, but he’s waved off by at least five separate hands. Boyd pulls him out to the parking lot, leaving the others to haggle over how to split._ _

__Raylan kisses him against the side of the building. Slow and heated, like a promise._ _

__“I don’t have to go back,” Boyd says suddenly. “I hate it there. I was thinking of leaving anyway.”_ _

__“But you were thinking about Kentucky,” Raylan reminds him. “I ain’t. You--maybe neither of us are thinking straight right now, Boyd. I’ve got to be honest, here.”_ _

__“Shut up, no you don’t,” Boyd says quickly, breathless to kiss him again. “Tell me to stay, like before.”_ _

__“You ain’t really offering if you’re gonna make me ask, baby.”_ _

__“Shut _up_.”_ _

__“Think about it more. We got our numbers now,” Raylan says smiling. They’d finally remembered to do that on the second cup of coffee. “I’m going to call you.”_ _

__Boyd looks at him. He’s got his hands up in Raylan’s hair. “This ain’t something I can let go of right away, Raylan.”_ _

__“Me either,” Raylan says sincerely._ _

__“That-that don’t mean I’m gonna change, though, I--”_ _

__“Baby, we don’t have to talk about this now. I’m gonna fucking call you.”_ _

__Boyd closes his eyes and says, “All right.” Raylan kisses him again and he feels it all through the lines in the airport and on the plane and on the train back home._ _

__

__Boyd goes to the bar as soon as he drops his shit at his place. He doesn’t have a job there anymore and he feels Caitlin’s angry gaze at his back as he stands in the GM’s office, waiting for his final pay. He cajoles the promise of a reference from the man, because Boyd always made sure to be flirty with him and he says the words, “personal problems,” and “family tragedy.” Boyd is an excellent liar._ _

__Will is sitting at the bar when he walks out. He’s got a dark expression on his face, but Boyd goes over to him anyway._ _

__“Come get a coffee with me,” he says quietly. “I’ve got to tell you some shit.”_ _

__Will scowls at him. “I’d rather drink.”_ _

__“I’ll buy you one. Not here.”_ _

__They walk down the street to a quieter dive and Boyd splurges half of the last of his earnings on top-shelf bourbon for both of them._ _

__“You said you weren’t going to leave,” Will accuses after he takes his first sip._ _

__Boyd knows he didn’t, but he doesn’t say that either. It was implied. He’d lied a lot to Will._ _

__“I treated you very poorly, Will. I was selfish and unfair.”_ _

__“You never intended to stay with me.” Will’s face carries anger less like Raylan than it does pleasure. He looks more petulant, like a boy who hasn’t got what he wanted. It’s not unattractive, really, but it’s not as much like Raylan as Boyd had thought._ _

__“I didn’t,” Boyd admits. “But I--I stayed longer than I intended to as well. I led you on in a way I usually don’t. Do you want to know why?”_ _

__Will looks him up and down, thoughtfully, suspiciously. “Are you trying to get me back into bed?”_ _

__Boyd shakes his head, meeting Will’s eyes. “Sincerely, I am not. I’m actually leaving town soon, I think. I lost my job, was gonna quit anyway.”_ _

__“What about your apartment?”_ _

__“It’s month to month.” Boyd smiles. Will was always so practical. “Do you want to know?”_ _

__“I know you want to tell me,” Will answers, then smiles, finally, at him. “Go ahead.”_ _

__Boyd takes a long pull from his drink. He smiles self-deprecatingly at Will, trying to soften the blow just a little, “I didn’t realize what it was for a while, what kept me coming back to you--”_ _

__“When you just wanted to leave anyway?” Will’s tone is one of hurt and confusion._ _

__“Yes,” Boyd admits. “I saw in you something that reminded me of someone I loved once. It was so subtle, I didn’t realize until--”_ _

__“Stop talking,” Will says suddenly. He doesn’t look angry, just finished._ _

__“I’m sorry, Will.”_ _

__“That’s nice, Boyd.”_ _

__They don’t speak again until Will downs his drink. “Thanks for that,” he says and stands._ _

__“You won’t see me around,” Boyd says, his eyes lifted to Will’s. They won’t meet his gaze. “I’m leaving town, I think.”_ _

__“You said that.” Will glares at him finally. “Would you have bothered if you weren’t leaving?”_ _

__“Yes,” Boyd says._ _

__“But you’re not gonna give that poor girl the same consideration.”_ _

__Oh, Boyd really is terrible. He shakes his head. “That was nothing. She’ll be fine.”_ _

__“Like I was nothing? Like I’ll be just fucking fine?”_ _

__Boyd shakes his head again. He’s certainly fucking this up. “No, honey, you surely were something. I’m so sorry.”_ _

__“Fuck you, asshole.”_ _

__And that’s that. Boyd takes a few minutes to finish his drink and leaves too._ _

__

__Raylan can only wait a day to call Boyd. He dials when he climbs into his car after work on Monday._ _

__“Raylan, hey,” he says, sounding breathless, but pleased._ _

__“Boyd,” Raylan says, smiling. “I told you.”_ _

__“I believed you,” Boyd replies. “But, I, ah, should tell you something. I’m--I, uh, decided to move to Miami. Now, before you say anything, I want to tell you, I don’t have any expectations here, I just--I told you I hate Atlanta these days. When I moved here from New York, it was because I thought I was missing the south and because I knew I had friends here. I know--I’m thinking a lot about Kentucky, like I told you, but I ain’t ready for that shit yet and I--I want to go somewhere with friends again--”_ _

__“You have one friend here,” Raylan says carefully, his mind racing in a dangerously excited way. He needs to reign that the fuck in._ _

__“I have two if you count Michael, or yourself. Are you counting yourself?” Boyd sounds so hesitant. It’s rattling. He’s doing this for Raylan-- _because_ of Raylan and he’s either told himself he’s not or is trying much too hard to convince Raylan that he isn’t._ _

__“I was counting myself. I forgot about Michael,” Raylan answers wryly._ _

__“Two then,” Boyd says, sounding relieved. “That’s two.”_ _

__Raylan smiles in spite of himself. He knows for damn sure he could use a friend and he wants to see Boyd, a lot more than a plane ticket to Atlanta each time would allow. If Boyd wants to see him enough to dig up his sparsely rooted existence, he’s going to damn well let him. He’s trying to be honest about his selfishness these days and he knows he fucking wants Boyd near him. He’s not sure where all this is going to take him, or them, but it’s a hell of a lot better than being alone in a place like Miami._ _

__“I can’t wait to see you,” he says._ _

__

__Four Years Later_ _

__Raylan is dead tired, but he needs something a sad and empty apartment isn’t going to give him tonight. He goes over to Boyd’s._ _

__He’d told Boyd earlier he was busy, that he’d probably go right home and sleep. There’s a big case. A money launderer for the cartel has gone missing, taking a bunch of cash with him. It’s huge and Raylan is right in the middle of it._ _

__There isn’t anything else they can do tonight, so Dan sent Raylan home. Raylan doesn’t want home and he doesn’t have anybody else right now, so he goes to Boyd’s._ _

__He’s got a key and he uses it, trying not to make a bunch of noise. He does this sometimes, comes in when he needs to, and if Boyd’s with somebody, he can usually tell. He just crashes on the couch, leaves quiet in the morning, or is woken up by a soft kiss while whatever partner Boyd has is sleeping._ _

__Sometimes Michael shakes him awake and hands him a cup of coffee. Michael’s been Boyd’s roommate almost since Boyd made the move down to Miami. He finished school just last month and is tending bar at a restaurant owned by the same people as the one Boyd works for now. He wants to go into social work, helping kids from broken homes in the city and the swamps, but he’s waiting for the right job to come up._ _

__Raylan hears noises, soft little moans, coming from inside the apartment as he turns the key, so he’s pretty much resigned himself to a night on the couch again, when he walks in and sees Michael pulled on top of Boyd’s lap, kissing him enthusiastically. There’s a couple of beers and a bowl and a lighter on the coffee table. Raylan only notices because his eyes have slid right off them, Boyd and Michael._ _

__“You know I ask you not to smoke that shit if I’m gonna come around,” he says, his voice tight._ _

__Michael practically springs off Boyd, bumping his heel on the table, cursing, eyes wide, and falling back onto the couch, well away from Boyd this time._ _

__“R-Raylan,” Boyd stumbles through his name. “I thought you weren’t gonna--”_ _

__“I changed my mind,” he says. “This what you do when I’m not comin’?”_ _

__“ _No_ ,” Michael says, the poor kid, “No, man, this was...we were just high and, oh shit, Raylan--”_ _

__“Shut up, kid,” he says. He’s looking at Boyd._ _

__“It ain’t, Raylan,” Boyd croaks. He does look really high. They’re too old for this shit now._ _

__Raylan scowls at him. “I asked you not to do one thing when you told me you were gonna shack up with him.”_ _

__“You did, Raylan.” Boyd’s blinking slowly and his face still holds shock rather than any other expression, like guilt, remorse, even anger._ _

__“I literally have asked you not to do _one thing_ in the entire time you been here with me, Boyd.”_ _

__Boyd frowns now. Goddammit, Raylan realizes they might have to have this entire conversation again, Boyd is so fucking high. “That’s right, Raylan,” he says, his words slightly slurred._ _

__“Is that thing fucking out?” he asks Michael, flicking his gaze down to the bowl._ _

__Michael's eyes are still wide, a little bit frightened now. He’s probably wondering if Raylan’s going to turn them in or some shit. “I ain’t police or DEA, kid. Just tell me if it’s out.”_ _

__“Y-yeah,” he says. “We burned through it.” Michael’s a good kid. He made good grades. He’s gonna do what he wants with his life. “I can’t have no more after tonight, Raylan. If I get an interview, they’re gonna screen me. I-I asked Boyd to smoke the last of my stash with me.”_ _

__Raylan makes a face. He knows Boyd hasn’t smoked in a while. He always tells him if he had been, or if was going to with friends at his place. He’s usually really good about it._ _

__“Fuck,” he says, taking a step back and running a hand through his hair under his hat. “ _Goddammit_ , Boyd.”_ _

__They’re not dating. They’re not._ _

__They tried it for a little while, when Boyd first came back. But Raylan didn’t like being as open as Boyd always wanted to be. They didn’t fight about it then, they just stopped calling it dating. They see each other all the time. If Raylan’s not with someone, he’s fucking Boyd._ _

__He can’t be mad about this. Shouldn’t. Michael’s not even a kid anymore really. It’s just--_ _

__“I only asked you not to do one thing, Boyd.”_ _

__“Don’t fuck Michael,” Boyd finishes, like he was thinking the words so hard and when Raylan didn’t say them, he had to anyway._ _

__Those weren’t even the words he’d said. “Don’t even mess around with Michael, asshole,” he spits._ _

__“What? Oh man,” Michael cries. “ _Really?_ Ohmigod--”_ _

__“I said that when he moved in with you,” Raylan says. “Don’t worry, kid, I’m not holding some kind of torch for you and I don’t think you’re in need of my goddamn protection or something.” He turns back to Boyd. “I asked you not to do this one fucking thing.” He doesn’t know why that’s sticking so hard in his throat. He just can’t swallow it. “You don’t shit where you eat. You don’t sleep with your fucking twink roommate.”_ _

__Michael makes a face at that and Raylan regrets it immediately. It’s hardly the case anymore. Michael’s grown up a lot, filled out. Hell, Raylan would have thought about it if it hadn’t been for their history, and the fact that Boyd lived with him._ _

__Boyd closes his eyes and sighs, drawing a hand slowly up to his face. “I hadn’t...hadn’t intended to.”_ _

__“Boyd--” Raylan doesn’t even know what he’s going to say now._ _

__Boyd shakes his head and stands, swaying on his feet. “Raylan, I need to go to bed.”_ _

__Raylan grinds his teeth together. “Forget it, asshole. I should have known better than to ask you for anything.” He turns and slams the door on his way out._ _

__Three hours later, he gets a call from Dan. Roland Pike was spotted somewhere in Texas and Raylan is on a plane out there before the sun comes up. He doesn’t bother calling Boyd to let him know. They’re not fucking dating anyway._ _

__

__Raylan’s in the car with a Marshal from San Antonio when Boyd calls him and he decides to pick up. He missed maybe three calls in the past day, ignored another four._ _

__“Hey, I should have told you, I’m not in town,” Raylan starts with. “They got me out in Texas for that thing I mentioned.”_ _

__“Raylan, you should be able to expect me to do the things you ask. You don’t ask for a lot and it was a stupid thing to do. Baby,” they don’t call each other that much anymore, “I am so sorry.”_ _

__Raylan shakes his head. “I can’t talk in detail right now. I’m in the car.”_ _

__“That’s fine, Raylan, that’s fine. I--Michael is so upset he got us fighting--not that it was all him, I mean. I just never meant--”_ _

__“Boyd, we’re not fighting. I’m just fucking tired. It’s not my place to ask you not to do things, I just--”_ _

__“No, you asked a long time ago, when it was your place and when it really would have been a terrible idea. The boy knows where he stands now, so that’s--I won’t say it’s all right. And I know you’re tired, I’ve seen that lately. I don’t know what to do to help you, Raylan.” Boyd sounds tired now too. Raylan hates the idea that he’s bringing him down in some way._ _

__“I really can’t talk like this right now. I can--I’ll try to call tonight.”_ _

__“Raylan, I--”_ _

__“I have to go,” Raylan says and hangs up._ _

__He tracks down Roland Pike and loses him, like an asshole, out of a hotel window in Brownsville. Dan calls and says there’s movement from the cartel in Nicaragua. They probably know where he’s headed. Raylan remembers Pike talking about Central America, a couple different places. He says it fits so they send him down there._ _

__He doesn’t have time to call and tell Boyd._ _

__

__“So he’s not mad anymore?” Michael asks over drinks three days after Raylan stormed from the room in which they’re currently sitting. Boyd is drinking bourbon because he’s being serious about drinking and Michael is drinking beer because he’s still half a child and can’t have more than two fingers of whiskey without being far too drunk for 7:30._ _

__Boyd shrugs. “Well, he said he wasn’t mad no more, but then he didn’t call back and his phone’s going to voicemail.” Boyd must have left fifteen messages in the past two days. He sighs and amends, “He didn’t say he wasn’t mad. He said we weren’t fighting.”_ _

__Michael frowns. “But you clearly are if he’s not answering!”_ _

__Boyd shakes his head. “Sometimes Raylan just doesn’t pick up the phone. Then he does and we weren’t ever fighting nor were we going to.”_ _

__“Well, that’s just a prime example of a healthy relationship Boyd,” Michael deadpans, downing the last of his beer. He stands and looks down at Boyd’s nearly empty glass. “You want another?”_ _

__“Wouldn’t say no.” Boyd hands the glass over and leans back in the armchair, closing his eyes and listening to the sound of the boy opening the fridge, the hiss of the bottle opening, the clink of the ice and glass on glass._ _

__When Michael comes back in with Boyd’s glass, refilled a little higher than he’d poured himself before, Boyd sighs and says, “We’re not in a relationship, son.”_ _

__Michael rolls his eyes. “You know I really believed you back when we first met.”_ _

__“Believed me about what?”_ _

__“That you weren’t boyfriends.”_ _

__Boyd scowls at him. “We fucking wer--aren’t.”_ _

__“You’re both idiots,” Michael says and raises his brows at Boyd’s offended look. “You _are_.”_ _

__Boyd takes a revenge pull on his drink, a long one, like that’ll show the boy and growls, “One boyfriend. _One_. And you think you’re some kind of love expert?”_ _

__Michael laughs humorlessly. His boyfriend or ex-boyfriend, Jake, is a sore spot even now. They met in school during Michael’s first semester. All that talk about no love and just sex and the boy fell hard right into the first monogamous relationship he’d ever had the opportunity to form. They did everything together for about two years._ _

__Jake practically lived with them--Boyd didn’t care, he was out a lot during that time, or stayed with Raylan. But they gradually found new interests and friction arose and complacency and little spats, until they called it quits during a fight about another boy, and the laundry, and some dance club or some such. It was a confusing mess of tangled stories and tears and glitter--Jake was a drama major and wanted to go to L.A. when they graduated. Everyone but those two had known it was bound to end eventually._ _

__“I’m no expert, Boyd, but I’ve been in a relationship longer than you, I’m pretty sure--an _official_ relationship. Not whatever the hell you’re pretending you don’t have going on with Raylan.”_ _

__“We like to fuck,” Boyd says._ _

__“And him comin’ over here all the time just to sleep on our couch is somehow related to your sex lives?”_ _

__Boyd makes a face. He doesn’t know why Raylan does that. It’s only been a few weeks of it, but Raylan’s been so busy too, he’s hard to pin down. When they are together now, they’re all about fucking--fucking hard and mean too, like Raylan’s slowly discovered he likes it sometimes. Boyd can’t get a word in about why he crashes on the couch at two in the morning--often he’s gone by the time Boyd is awake and he only hears about it from Michael._ _

__“He looks tired,” Michael says, concern in his eyes._ _

__“I know he is,” Boyd replies. “He said as much on the phone. But you can see it too.” Boyd just doesn’t know what to do._ _

__“I just don’t understand what happened.” Michael looks at him, confusion added to concern._ _

__Boyd sighs again. “I’m not sure what you mean.” He is. And he might know. He just doesn’t want to admit it. Not without Raylan there, to watch him and nod, or shake his head and say, “You think so?”_ _

__Michael makes a face at him like he knows just what he’s thinking and knows it’s bullshit too. “I just don’t understand how two people who clearly love each other can be so hard-headed about being together.”_ _

__“You don’t know too many people from Harlan then,” Boyd says._ _

__“Fuck off, Boyd. Answer the question.”_ _

__“I’m sorry, what question were you asking, Mister Psychology?”_ _

__“Why do you feel--when Raylan is obviously coming here, night after night, looking for something from you --that you can’t give it to him?”_ _

__Boyd drains his drink finally, much too fast, and his head spins as he stands. He slides the glass on the coffee table between him and this ignorant child, gives said child a cold glare, and announces, “I’m going to bed.”_ _

__Michael only says, “Goodnight, Boyd.”_ _

__

__The bourbon is making Boyd’s mind race in an unpleasant way. He's too wired for sleep but too drunk to do something other than think of Raylan and his disappointment and his tired eyes._ _

__Boyd hadn't even wanted to smoke and he never would have touched the goddamn kid if he hadn't looked at him like some kind of supplicant and said, "Would you take me?"_ _

__Jesus, what was he supposed to do?_ _

__Boyd huffs. He was _supposed_ to say, "No, Michael. We're both far too inebriated to make such a decision right now."_ _

__But Boyd had been so high and he hates the word no._ _

__And Michael is cute these days and a lot smarter than he used to be. He's no longer under the age of appropriate attention in Boyd’s eyes and they are both unattached._ _

__But goddamn it, Boyd knows why Raylan is mad. He knows. And he hates that more than he hates no._ _

__Boyd’s mind goes back to the word _unattached_. _ _

__He's not sure that's strictly true. He's not sure he's been totally unattached since he came to Miami. But he's not sure Raylan knows that._ _

__Boyd used to think he knew it, by the way they kept on coming back to each other._ _

__After the first few months, when they knew exclusive wouldn’t work--Boyd got antsy and distracted and Raylan didn’t want to hold on so tight--they’d go for a week or more sometimes without seeing each other. Boyd got wrapped up in one person after another, and when it would break or fizzle, he’d call Raylan, whose smile he could hear over the phone and whose kiss, and quick tongue, could soothe his bruised ego._ _

__They did it that way for a long time. Raylan saw people too, and he’d tell Boyd in a soft, quiet tone that he might not want to come around for a little bit. And Boyd would know it was because it was serious._ _

__Raylan told him about the first few, a woman who was a bail bondsman followed by a boy who worked as a clerk for a judge. After a while Raylan stopped doing that and he would look Boyd in the eye when Boyd talked about his own adventures, but his gaze would be as distant as his smile and then they would fuck, a lot._ _

__Boyd thought it was okay. He knows now, and was definitely ignoring the fact for a long time, that Raylan stopped doing his “being honest” thing around the time he started saying things like, “I don’t want to talk about it, baby.” And maybe he did that because he thought Boyd knew him--Boyd does know him--and that if he did he’d just know things._ _

__Boyd’s thinking now, if you don’t talk about those things with someone else, it’s like they’re never truly known at all. They’re easier to ignore, shove under the rug, but are set to boil over in the long run._ _

__Boyd hates mixing metaphors._ _

__He thinks it was easier not to ask, not to push, because he told himself it wasn’t his place. He wasn’t Raylan’s and Raylan wasn’t his. Raylan wanted things Boyd wasn’t ready to give and Boyd wanted things he knew Raylan would never be able to fully accept._ _

__Boyd remembers the first time he said, “I took someone home last night.” Raylan’s eyes had flashed in the dark of his room and his words stuttered, only slightly, before he said, “O-oh yeah?”_ _

__They’d talked about it before they even started, about other people. Raylan had said it was fine. Boyd couldn’t stay if it wasn’t, he knew that--he’d only disappoint Raylan in the end._ _

__And here he has regardless._ _

__Boyd never wanted to believe Raylan couldn’t trust him. He knew it wasn’t his fault, or Raylan’s--it was just how he was wired. If he cared, he couldn’t trust. If he didn’t care, it didn’t matter. Boyd thought if they both pretended they didn’t care, trust wouldn’t be an issue. He could have everything he wanted._ _

__He knows right now he’s about to lose it._ _

__He falls asleep with that thought turning over and over in his mind and when he wakes up, he calls Raylan again, to no answer._ _

__Michael is making eggs in the morning and hands one to Boyd on a plate with an apologetic smile._ _

__Boyd loves him and feels bad for being purposefully obtuse the night before._ _

__“He call back?”_ _

__Boyd shakes his head. “I gotta change some things, kid,” he says._ _

__

__Three more days pass before Boyd starts to really wonder, like incessantly wonder, if something is wrong._ _

__He goes by Raylan’s place. He has a key and uses it in the door. He finds mail piled up behind the slot just inside and dust on all the furnishings. All the food in the fridge is spoiled or near to it and there’s nothing to suggest Raylan came back from Texas and took any more clothes or toiletries with him than he would have needed for the two day trip Boyd had been led to believe he’d gone on._ _

__“Fuck,” he says to the empty apartment and heads over to the Marshals’ office._ _

__When he arrives, the place is all business, but everyone there has a sort of wild-eyed dazed look about them. The kind of half-shell shock that comes with bad news and worry. Boyd doesn’t know anyone here. He only comes to meet Raylan for lunch sometimes, and Raylan never introduces him to anyone. He’d met Karen, but she transferred out six months after Boyd moved into town and Dan Grant doesn’t bother socializing with friends of his deputies, even if they do fuck sometimes. If you don’t cohabitate, you don’t get on the list for the Christmas party._ _

__Boyd stands in the middle of the office--it’s not like there’s an information desk--until someone realizes he doesn’t belong there._ _

__“Can I help you?” It’s a woman who asks. She’s young, and she’s got some folders in her hands. Boyd remembers Raylan told him once the office employs researchers, that not all the investigating gets done by deputies._ _

__“I’m looking for Raylan Givens,” Boyd says, as calmly as he can._ _

__The woman’s eyes go wide and she frowns. “What your business with Marshal Givens?”_ _

__“He’s a friend of mine. I haven’t heard from him in several days.”_ _

__She hesitates and Boyd adds hastily, “Look, I know he was in Texas, but he said he’d call me and he didn’t and I know he’s not back yet. That was days ago. I just want to know if he’s all right.”_ _

__A man approaches them, another Marshal, Boyd thinks, but he doesn’t know if it’s Ruiz or Alberts. He’s only heard these names when Raylan complains about them._ _

__He draws the woman into a whispered conversation. She’s clearly telling him what Boyd’s said and he’s looking hard at Boyd and worried._ _

__“Jesus, is he dead?” Boyd blurts, perhaps a little loudly. Half the eyes in the room turn to him, the other half stay on task, maybe out of desperation._ _

__“ _No_ ,” the man says, coming up to him fast. He pulls Boyd into the conference room Boyd first saw Raylan walking out of in this office and sits him down. “I’m Anthony Ruiz, by the way,” he says, drawing a hand through his thick black hair. “How do you know Givens?”_ _

__“We’re friends,” Boyd says, clenching his teeth. He doesn’t owe this guy a story._ _

__“You gotta work with me here. Raylan is really private. We didn’t have anyone to call but his ex-wife.”_ _

__“Call about what?” Boyd voice sounds like stone._ _

__“Come on, man,” Ruiz says._ _

__Boyd blinks and shakes his head. He has to know. “Raylan and I are from the same town. We grew up together. Moved down here about the same time and reconnected. We...drink together.” He looks up and practically begs the man with his eyes not to ask for more. Boyd won’t out Raylan--he’s not sure if he is to anyone but Dan--and he doesn’t have anything else to say._ _

__Ruiz sighs and sits down. “Jenny said you know he went to Texas.”_ _

__“He spoke to me on the phone about it.” Boyd can’t imagine that being the last conversation he ever has with Raylan Givens. He doesn’t care if this guy figures it out. “I need you to tell me again that he isn’t dead,” Boyd says as calm as he can._ _

__“He’s in a hospital in Nicaragua.”_ _

__Boyd blinks. “ _What?_ ”_ _

__“I really can’t give you specific information about the case. But if you give me your phone number, I’ll let you know when he’s stateside again.” Ruiz frowns. “They sent Dan down there to get him, but rumor is he got knocked around some. He might need some help, you know?”_ _

__Boyd nods, almost mechanically and takes the offered pen and paper. He writes his name under the number and when he leaves, Marshal Ruiz shakes his hand, though he hardly feels it, and says, “Good to meet you, Boyd. You know, sometimes, we worry about him.”_ _

__Boyd quirks his lips. He’s not smiling. “Me too, son.”_ _

__

__Boyd sleepwalks through the next two days and only wakes up marginally when he receives a call from Ruiz. Raylan will be back that night, he didn’t hear what time. Boyd calls in sick._ _

__He goes to Raylan’s apartment and he can’t bring himself to go in again. He sits on the floor in the hallway next to Raylan’s door, thinking he might need help getting in, wondering if he’ll have some kind of bag other than his overnighter. Then he wonders what kind of souvenirs one would bring back from a Nicaraguan hospital and he laughs at himself darkly before he dozes, his head tilted back against the wall._ _

__Boyd’s woken by a thunk and clang of something falling past his head. He shifts and blinks his eyes, glancing up to see Raylan, his face all bruised and cut up, his arm in a sling, carrying just his little black bag and frowning down at the floor._ _

__His keys are next to Boyd’s hand. He must have fumbled with them at the lock._ _

__“Christ, let me do that,” Boyd says, scrambling to his feet._ _

__Raylan blinks at him. “Shit, I didn’t see you,” he says. His voice is gravelly, unused but tired. “What are you doing here?”_ _

__“What are you doing?” Boyd defends inanely. “You didn’t drive home did you?”_ _

__Raylan shakes his head, blinking some more. “Drive? My car’s in Houston. Dan drove.”_ _

__Boyd slides the key into the lock and turns it, glad he picked up the mail before, so Raylan can’t trip over it as he half stumbles inside. “He let you walk up here by yourself?”_ _

__“What?” Raylan asks, frowning._ _

__“Dan didn’t come up here with you?” Boyd doesn’t mean to raise his voice._ _

__“Told him not to,” Raylan replies. He draws his unbandaged hand, though there are tiny cuts across his knuckles and palms just like his face, up to his forehead, as though it aches._ _

__Boyd can’t help himself. He’d thought, for those scant moments, that Raylan was dead. He touches his cheek, with an open palm._ _

__Raylan’s eyes meet his. He looks so tired. “What the hell are you doing here?”_ _

__The idea, and the pain associated, that Raylan might not want him here, sinks slowly to Boyd’s gut. “I want to help you, Raylan. I was so afraid--”_ _

__Raylan shakes his head, as though all that’s obvious. “How did you know today? I-I wanted to call but my cell was busted--I forgot on the plane,” he looks down now, leaning hard into Boyd. “M’ head’s all fuzzy. Pain meds and ears ringing--”_ _

__Boyd draws his fingers up into Raylan’s hair. He takes off his hat with his other hand. “Let me get your bag,” he says quietly._ _

__Raylan doesn’t respond, but he lets go of it when Boyd pulls it from his shoulder._ _

__“Why are your ears ringing?” Boyd asks._ _

__“Not all the time,” Raylan mumbles, pushing forward. Boyd starts walking him towards the couch. “Comes ‘n’ goes. Days now. Plane fucked it up too.”_ _

__“But _why?_ ”_ _

__Raylan pitches down when they get to the couch and Boyd helps him onto it. “Don’t you want the bed, baby?” Boyd murmurs, making sure to speak a little louder than he would have._ _

__Raylan looks up at him and pulls him down too, to sit next to his head. His finger curl into Boyd’s shirt. “ _Baby_ ,” he says and smiles real pretty and sad before he closes his eyes and doesn’t open them back up. _ _

__Boyd slides in further, positioning his lap underneath Raylan’s head. He sighs and settles in._ _

__

__Raylan wakes him by shifting. He turns quickly, and tosses and Boyd is concerned he’s going to jar his arm. Boyd doesn’t even know what’s wrong with it._ _

__“Raylan,” he says, trying to shake him awake. “Baby, come on.”_ _

__“No,” Raylan mumbles, then moans it again. “Shit, Tommy, _no_!”_ _

__Raylan jerks awake then and pushes back on Boyd, who holds tight onto his arms and leans forward, whispering soothing things at him like, “hush,” and “it’s all right,” and “Raylan, Raylan.”_ _

__Raylan looks up at him, blinking rapidly and his face crumples in pain. Boyd lets go of his arm hastily and Raylan cradles it back to himself, breathing hard from fear and hurt._ _

__“You break it?” Boyd asks. He touches his shoulder and Raylan looks up at him. He hadn’t heard. “Did you break it?” Boyd asks again. “Your arm?”_ _

__“No,” Raylan says. “Sprained.”_ _

__“How?”_ _

__Raylan shakes his head, sitting up and turning away._ _

__“They only told me you were in Nicaragua, Raylan. They didn’t say anything else.”_ _

__Raylan turns back to him. He looks strangely broken, confused and exhausted. “Who told you?”_ _

__“Ruiz,” Boyd says._ _

__“That asshole,” Raylan says with no venom, almost like he could be kidding if there were any mirth in his voice._ _

__Boyd looks at his watch. It’s just after midnight. “Let’s go to bed, baby.”_ _

__Raylan looks at him and Boyd can no longer see any more of the anger that was in his eyes before he left Miami. He doesn’t think it’s gone though, just buried under pain and terror and longing. Boyd thought he might have died and he wonders, looking at Raylan in that moment, if Raylan thought he might have died too._ _

__“I’m so glad you’re here,” Raylan says._ _

__Boyd smiles at him, slow, and sad too. “I’m not going anywhere,” he says._ _

__

__Boyd’s eyes are grave as he says, “Raylan, why do you look like you’ve been in a goddamn cave in?”_ _

__Raylan winces. Most every part of him aches and has been for days--ever since they jumped him in that goddamn watering hole on the outskirts of Managua._ _

__Boyd is looking at him like he doesn’t know what to do and that’s weird because Boyd usually knows exactly what to do, or how to play it so it looks like he does. It’s putting Raylan off. He doesn’t like being somebody’s problem._ _

__It’s also weird that Boyd is still here._ _

__Raylan had woken alone in his bed that morning and thought he felt something like relief. Boyd had left. Raylan wouldn’t have to explain, wouldn’t have to answer his questions--Raylan’s done nothing since they pulled him out of the fucking jungle but sleep and answer questions. He also wouldn’t have to look at Boyd watching him like that, like he’s gonna break if Boyd doesn’t do something, something Boyd doesn’t know to do._ _

__Well, Raylan doesn’t know either and he shouldn’t have to be the one thinking about it so goddamn much._ _

__His relief hadn’t lasted long, because he’d heard noises in the kitchen and realized Boyd hadn’t left at all. And now Raylan was sitting at the bar that separated his living room and kitchen and served as a place to sit and eat with a plate of eggs cooling in front of him and Boyd’s worried eyes watching him and _asking_._ _

__Raylan looks like he’d been in a cave in because Tommy Bucks dragged him through the Nicaraguan jungle _asking_ all these questions about Roland Pike--where was he? How did he get out? What did Raylan know? That was the big one. _ _

__And he asked and asked and Raylan didn’t answer for a while until they got to the plantation and Tommy snagged that--he tied that poor man to a tree and taped a stick of dynamite in his mouth, danced around with a lighter until Raylan told him everything he knew--which wasn’t even that much. Raylan was almost certain Pike wasn’t in Nicaragua anymore, maybe had never been at all and Bucks got so fucking mad at that, he lit the fuse and walked away._ _

__Raylan was tied to a tree too, so he couldn’t do that and he watched that man’s face get blown off and the tiny pieces of about half the tree he was tied to cut open Raylan’s skin like he’d been in Boyd’s fucking cave in--which is what he tells him._ _

__Boyd’s gone very still as Raylan speaks, his voice going hoarse as it had been when he was telling the police in Nicaragua and the hospital people and Dan when he’d arrived. Boyd’s face is stony and strange. His expression reminds Raylan more of the boy he knew in Harlan than anything else Boyd has said or done in the past four years._ _

__“Where’s that fucker now?” he asks solemnly._ _

__“In the wind,” Raylan croaks and shrugs. Raylan’s so tired, he can’t even be mad anymore. “People are lookin’ for him, I guess. Not me.”_ _

__Boyd’s lips quirk up. “Of course not you. Jesus Christ, Raylan.”_ _

__Raylan frowns at him. “Don’t you have to work?”_ _

__“I called off again,” Boyd says._ _

__“Again?” Raylan doesn’t know how he feels about that. “Are you--”_ _

__Boyd reaches out fast and touches Raylan’s face, carefully avoiding the cuts and bruises--Tommy had laid into him pretty hard too. Raylan stops talking. “Just last night and today. I’ll go back tomorrow night, all right?”_ _

__Raylan’s sure that what he’s feeling now is definitely relief._ _

__“Okay.”_ _

__

__Later, when Raylan’s meds are in full effect and he’s feeling loose and not too concerned about his arm, he pulls Boyd down with him onto the bed._ _

__“You need to rest,” Boyd’s eyes are hard, unyielding, like the boy in the whore’s trailer in Harlan._ _

__“I need you,” Raylan says the words before he thinks too hard about them. He sees the exact moment they make Boyd relent. Boyd smiles like that boy did, so pleased, so open. His eyes aren’t so hard anymore--they never used to be for Raylan._ _

__He kisses Raylan, quick and strong. It feels good, but it also feels slightly disconnected and Raylan’s body moves before his brain tells it to. He moves up on Boyd, but Boyd’s pushes him down on the bed by his shoulders, not rough, not now. Raylan knows Boyd wouldn’t think of it right now._ _

__“You can’t move too much,” Boyd murmurs, as if distracted, like he can’t wait. “Let me, baby.” He looks into Raylan’s eyes then, and Raylan knows they’re both thinking about the past. “I can be so good for you, Raylan,” he says. “I can.”_ _

__Raylan lays back and lets him put his mouth, his warm, wicked mouth, all over him. He’s floating, blinking and breathing slow after he comes, when Boyd pulls Raylan’s good hand to bring him off together. He groans and presses his face to Raylan’s shoulder, drawing his hand up fast, clawing into his hair. “Raylan,” he chokes. “I’m so fucking glad--”_ _

__“I know,” Raylan says, his voice sounding too loud for the moment, harsh, still disconnected._ _

__“I’m not sure you…” Boyd begins to say, but Raylan is fading and can’t make it out. He smiles though, like he can listen if he’s sleeping, like he’ll know anyway. He thinks sleeping would be nice._ _

__

__Raylan heals quickly, not as quickly as he’d like, but he gets back to work fast and he keeps himself busy doing it. Everyone tip-toes around him at first and he hates that a lot, so he grits his teeth harder and acts as though nothing terrible or life-threatening happened._ _

__Dan knows different and makes him go see the Service’s psychologist. He smiles and half-lies about his traumatic symptoms, of which he has plenty--though his hands haven’t shook at the range since his first day back. He can’t completely deny that they’re there because that would give him away. But he smooths them over in a way that makes him think of Boyd maneuvering someone into giving him what he wants, pushing just a little, then pulling back and waiting for it to come. It does, and after three visits, Raylan gets his clearance to go back into the field._ _

__He doesn’t tell Boyd about it. It’s not like he doesn’t think Boyd would understand. Neither of them have ever been too keen to let anyone besides each other very far into their heads. But Boyd knows Raylan still has dreams about it--maybe once a week, which is probably a lot._ _

__Boyd only knows this because he’s been over so much lately. It’s starting to make Raylan nervous._ _

__They’re eating dinner at Raylan’s when it comes to a head._ _

__"You going out tonight?" Raylan asks him._ _

__Boyd had worked the morning, because they serve brunch at this new place he'd started at a few weeks before. Boyd is always moving jobs, looking for a better gig, getting out of progressively awkward situations--mostly of his own making._ _

__Boyd looks up at him, somehow surprised, then his expression becomes slightly more guarded. "I thought I'd stay in with you."_ _

__Raylan frowns. "You don't have to."_ _

__Boyd smiles, or tries to. Raylan intensely dislikes that it must be for his benefit. "I want to."_ _

__"Really?" The question is flat, barely a query at all._ _

__Boyd sighs. Raylan's been grilling him a lot about his plans, his intentions, but never taking the conversation as far he could. "Raylan, what do you want from me?"_ _

__Raylan glares and sets down his fork. "I want you to do what you want to. Not--"_ _

__"Not what?" Boyd's voice is very soft._ _

__"Not what you think I need after...whatever. I don't need you to fucking babysit me. Go out." Raylan can't believe Boyd is making him say this. They're not dating, Jesus._ _

__"Do you want to come out with me?" Boyd asks, carefully for some reason._ _

__Raylan runs a hand across his eyes. He's just now back in the field, healthy, but running a little slow still. He wants to fall asleep with a bourbon._ _

__"I'll stay in," Boyd says, as if he's decided._ _

__"Goddammit," Raylan growls._ _

__Boyd looks hurt, then suddenly, very angry. "Raylan," he says deliberately, "do you want me here or not?"_ _

__Raylan doesn't want him here if it's not where he wants to be. Raylan can't imagine Boyd doesn't have better things to do than stay here and watch him fall asleep. Raylan thinks of himself going over to Boyd's just to crash on his couch so he doesn't have to have alone. He doesn't like himself that desperate. He says, "No. Go out."_ _

__Boyd doesn't even finish eating._ _

__

__Raylan feels like shit for three weeks. Not just because of his still healing injuries and his continued turmoil over what happened in the jungle. But because, shit--it’s not as if Boyd isn’t speaking to him--they talk, they see each other, mostly when Michael is around too, but it’s strained and Boyd is guarded and watchful of him. Not like he’s wary of being hurt, but like he’s waiting for something, for Raylan to leave or something else he can’t think of. Boyd doesn’t come over anymore, he doesn’t even ask to._ _

__Raylan’s apartment is empty and sad again, but he can’t bring himself to go crawling back._ _

__He tries to date elsewhere and it’s awful. His mind’s not in the right place._ _

__Things only get worse when he hears Tommy Bucks is back in town._ _

__He sits outside of the hotel where he’s staying. Tommy’s sitting in the lobby. Raylan dials Boyd and hangs up before he can pick up. He was gonna leave a message, he knows Boyd’s working. But he remembers almost too late Boyd will pick up the phone no matter what when Raylan calls now. It cost him his last job, that, and all that time he missed. Raylan was so pissed at him._ _

__Raylan thinks about that for a minute, as a respite from Tommy Bucks and that poor man’s face, his life._ _

__Boyd picks up no matter what. Boyd never leaves Raylan unless he has to. Boyd sits outside his apartment for what must have been hours the night he came home. Boyd goes to the Marshals office, talks to Ruiz--Jesus, he must have thought Raylan was dead._ _

__“Fuck,” he breathes and goes and gives Tommy Bucks twenty-four hours to get out of town._ _

__Raylan works another case. He talks to Dan for a minute about Bucks._ _

__“Did you really give him twenty-four hours?”_ _

__Raylan shrugs, says nothing. The phone rings and Dan gives him a look, but Raylan slips out of his office. He drinks alone in a bar and ignores messages from Boyd._ _

___Why did you call?_ he texts. _Everything okay?__ _

__Raylan pleads a CI meeting on the phone with Dan in the morning and by lunch he’s tracked down Tommy Bucks again. He’s not really thinking about what he’s doing. He’s going by instinct and practice, something like muscle memory._ _

__He thinks a lot about calling Boyd but doesn’t do it because Boyd might want him to explain himself, might derail him from this track he’s put himself on. It’s steady and he knows where it’s going. That’s all Raylan wants right now._ _

__Everything about Boyd is the absolute opposite of that._ _

__And he’d ask Raylan why he’s staged himself a fucking gunfight in Miami, Florida in the year 2009._ _

__Raylan stops thinking about Boyd the moment he gets his eyes on Tommy again. Everything is heat and humidity and flies and blood. Raylan’s eyes flash at him, and he smiles and talks, but he feels like he’s crawling through the jungle. He’s relieved when Tommy finally pulls._ _

__He walks out of there with a clear conscience._ _

__Dan, apparently, doesn’t feel the same way and Raylan gets an earful which he tries to let roll off him. It’s harder now that he’s ridden past the jungle. He thinks maybe he’s fucked his career. He doesn’t let Dan know he’s worried._ _

__It’s afternoon by the time he leaves the scene. He goes to a bar again and thumbs the call button on his phone. It’s a few hours later that he just gets up and goes._ _

__

__Boyd takes the boy home._ _

__The cute one he’s been eyeing at his new job, the one he’s been holding back on because he wanted to make changes and because Raylan almost died. But Raylan doesn’t want him to hold back, so he doesn’t. He’s taken home this boy a few times now._ _

__His name is Jordan and he’s not quite handsome, but he’s got good hands and an eager mouth and Boyd can try not to think of Raylan when he’s with him._ _

__Boyd’s got his own mouth on Jordan’s cock when a sound comes from the other room. A door closing, muffled. Boyd knows Michael’s visiting friends in Tampa. He thinks of Raylan’s aborted call the previous day, his unresponsiveness. Boyd told himself he’d just become busy, or he’d gone out of town unexpectedly, like when he’d gone to San Antonio. He goes incommunicado fairly frequently--and they’d fought, in a way._ _

__He smiles at the boy, who whines when he takes his mouth away. “Hold on, sweet thing,” he murmurs and slips out of the room._ _

__Raylan looks terrible._ _

__He’s all rumpled, his tie loose, his jacket clenched in his fist, nearly white-knuckled. His face is pale and his eyes show Boyd he’s just realized there’s someone with him._ _

__“I’ll go--” He starts to say._ _

__Boyd takes a step forward and cups his cheek on reflex alone. “The fuck you will,” he says. “Wait a minute.”_ _

__Boyd goes back into the room and looks down at Jordan, not-unsympathetically. “You got to go, boy.”_ _

__Jordan frowns at him, perplexed. “What?”_ _

__Boyd’s mouth hardens. He thinks Raylan might bolt, he waits any longer. “I need you out. Now get.”_ _

__The boy is angry now and he spits some curses as he pulls on his clothes. “This about the guy you aren’t dating?”_ _

__“Fuck off, kid,” Boyd doesn’t have time for dramatics. “You say a word to him on your way out, I’ll tell Andy you’re takin’ more’n your share of tips.”_ _

__Jordan glares but he’s silent as he leaves, Boyd watches his back with one eye and notes the strain in Raylan’s as he slumps on the couch, his legs spread apart, like they’re the only thing preventing him from sliding off. His face is in his hands._ _

__“Raylan, what is the matter?” he asks as the door slams shut._ _

__“You didn’t have to kick him out,” Raylan is mumbling._ _

__Boyd ignores him. “You want a drink?”_ _

__“No,” he says, a bit strangled and Boyd is profoundly disturbed._ _

__He makes himself one, saying nothing else until he’s got it in his hand as he sits down on the coffee table, directly in front of his boy, the man he knows he can’t let go of, not now._ _

__“Raylan, tell me what’s going on.”_ _

__Raylan takes his hands from his face and there isn’t sorrow in his eyes or grief or anger. He just looks so _tired_ , bone deep but somehow raw at the same time, like he’s run a marathon and done ten years of taxes all in the same day. There is no regret or shame in his voice when he answers, “I shot Tommy Bucks.”_ _

__Boyd has fifteen questions in his mind, but can’t seem to form one, to push it from his lips._ _

__“I called you, but couldn’t talk because I didn’t want--Boyd, I pushed him. I knew, I--fuck. They’re gonna fire me.”_ _

__Boyd’s brows crease. “I don’t understand. What did he do?” Boyd blinks then, shaking his head as Raylan rears back, as if he’s been slapped. “No, no, Jesus, baby, I know, fuck do I know, but--”_ _

__“I gave him twenty-four hours to leave town and when he didn’t, I shot him,” Raylan says very evenly. “Over crab cakes at the fucking Hilton downtown.” He leans back and makes a noise that sounds vaguely like a laugh. “Made the evening news, finally.”_ _

__He’s trying to brush it off, but Boyd can see he’s watching him. He’s waiting for a reaction._ _

__Boyd takes a drink, letting Raylan’s words settle over him._ _

__Raylan’s been having nightmares, since Nicaragua, once a week even long into his recovery. Raylan doesn’t like bananas anymore and he squints harder when the sun’s in his eyes, though he hasn’t tried sunglasses yet. Boyd’s still not sure what his aversion to them is. He doesn’t like people to touch his hands, particularly his wrists, unless he expects it. He startles when he’s drunk and someone slips behind his back. Boyd’s seen him do it in bars._ _

__Boyd thinks of Tommy Bucks, a man who would blow a man’s face off only because he was pissed. He thinks of what Raylan’s been through and how a man from Harlan would logically and instinctively react._ _

__He sips his drink again as says, “I imagine you waited ‘til he pulled on you first?”_ _

__Raylan flinched when Boyd began to speak, but now he’s staring at him._ _

__Boyd doesn’t show his hurt on his face. How can they be like this after so long? “You think I’m so far away from where you are, Raylan?”_ _

__“I don’t know anymore, Boyd,” he says and reaches for Boyd’s drink, taking it easily from his loose grip. He drinks, a long pull, and says, “You would have told me not to.”_ _

__“I would have asked you to think about it,” Boyd says, his voice still very measured._ _

__“I couldn’t,” Raylan says, shaking his head. “I wasn’t--I--”_ _

__“I would never have told you ‘no’, baby,” Boyd says and takes the drink back, setting it aside as he reaches for Raylan’s face, turned away from him. “You were hurting, and I tried, Raylan--” he breaks off, shaking his head. “You did what you needed. You were justified.”_ _

__Raylan’s looking at him, slightly bewildered. “What did you try?” he asks like he thinks he knows._ _

__“I love you so much,” Boyd says, the words surprised out of him. He just wants this done with. “I tried to be what you needed. When you left, when--I told Michael, I told him I wanted to make changes, but then _everything_ was changed when you came back and I thought, I could stay and we wouldn’t have to talk about it and I would just be here and you would need that and want it and I wouldn’t--”_ _

__“But I told you to go away,” Raylan murmurs. “Why didn’t you just fucking say?”_ _

__“You hurt me,” Boyd says and Raylan tries to pull away. Boyd doesn’t let him. “I know that’s not what you meant, I know. I just. You didn’t believe I wanted it. It made me wonder… I didn’t know if I _was_ what you needed. You seemed so eager for me to be gone.”_ _

__Raylan’s blinking fast. “I don’t know, Boyd. I don’t know,” he says shaking his head. “If you were going to go I wanted you to do it and not-not _tease_ me. I can’t be like you are. I thought it would be all right, before, when you first came. But I’m so tired of not knowing and I don’t know how to...even with Winona, I had a boot stuck in the door.”_ _

__Boyd thinks again about how much he hates Arlo Givens._ _

__“Remember when it was _fun_?” Raylan asks suddenly and all Boyd’s hate turns in on himself. He’s ruined this and he has no idea how he could have prevented it._ _

__“I’m so sorry, Raylan.”_ _

__Raylan groans. “Shut up and take me to bed,” he says. “I have to meet with the review board tomorrow.”_ _

__Boyd takes him by the hand and leads him into his room. There’s come on the coverlet, Jordan’s, and Boyd strips it as Raylan begins to disrobe. Their kisses are slow at first, tentative, which is unusual for them. It’s like they want to re-learn and memorize each other all at once. Boyd doesn’t like how much it feels like a goodbye, but he doesn’t know how to stop it from happening._ _

__“I love you,” Boyd says again softly. “Raylan.”_ _

__Raylan kisses him. “Stop,” he says to Boyd’s lips, his words heavy with breath. “Stop saying that.”_ _

__Boyd decides to listen to him for once and speaks no more until he’s on his back and Raylan’s hand is on him and Boyd’s hand is on Raylan. Raylan’s lips are hot and wet at Boyd’s collarbone and he’s moaning, his eyes screwed shut. Boyd is a single heartbeat, pitched to the motion of Raylan’s hand, his free fingers dig into the flesh behind Raylan’s hip as they rut and groan against each other._ _

__“Boyd, Boyd,” Raylan cries._ _

__“Baby, I’m here,” he whispers._ _

__Raylan’s about to come and his mouth is at Boyd’s ear. “I need you. I do.”_ _

__Boyd comes himself, that steaming wetness spurting up between them. “I know,” his voice breaks. “I’ll be here. I will.”_ _

__Their lips and hands cling as Raylan comes, breathing hard into Boyd’s lungs. There are tears in his eyes._ _

__“I’m sorry,” Boyd says again, desperately._ _

__“Stop saying that.”_ _

__“I love you.” Boyd doesn’t want to listen anymore. “I’m sorry.”_ _

__

__When Boyd wakes, Raylan is gone. When Raylan comes back, much later that afternoon, he says, “They’re transferring me to Kentucky.”_ _

__"What?" Boyd drops the mug he's been washing in the sink. He dries his hands, slowly turning to face Raylan, who stands in the kitchen doorway, leans really, as if he needs it to hold him up._ _

__"Eastern Kentucky. A friend of mine from Glynco is Chief there, taking me on as a _favor_. Shit."_ _

__Boyd frowns. "Didn't you tell Dan? Explain why--"_ _

__"Why it's a fucking shit idea? Yeah. There's nothing he can do. I can't stay here. He's right. Gio's gonna gun for me. He's gonna...gonna hurt people to get to me, maybe." His eyes are wide now. "Shit. Boyd, I shouldn't even be here. Fuck."_ _

__Boyd advances on him as he tries to back away. He grabs hard at Raylan's arm. "Don't you fucking dare."_ _

__"Boyd, you don't understand. I'm on a plane in twelve hours. If Gio gets wind, and he will, he's gonna try and see who I talk to. I was never so far on his radar. I don't think he knows about you. _Yet_."_ _

__"You think I give a damn?"_ _

__"I think you don't want to be fucking dead and me in Kentucky."_ _

__"You're going to Kentucky anyway."_ _

__Raylan rolls his eyes. "Like you want to go with me."_ _

__"Who says I don't?"_ _

__Raylan rips his arm out of Boyd's grasp, suddenly angry. His eyes flash their whites as he turns away and his frown is small and deep. He turns back to snarl, "Fuck you. Don't screw around about that."_ _

__Boyd feels something painful spring high up into his chest. He just can't fathom how to get Raylan to understand. "I wouldn't, Raylan. I said I would be here. You think after all this I would jerk you around?"_ _

__"There's not here." Raylan grinds out._ _

__"I was the one, thought about going home all those years ago anyway, Raylan. You think I just forgot about it? You think I'd come here and fuck you all the time and never think of Harlan?" He bites the inside of his cheek, drawing clawed fingers across his face in frustration. "Shit, Raylan, I--"_ _

__"Fuck you again, Boyd." Raylan's leaning away from him, as if Boyd's struck him a blow. His eyes show hurt. "I need someone in my goddamn corner there, if I fucking need anybody at all. You can't just--" He shuts his eyes quick and slides his hand across his sidearm, not like he's going to pull, but like he doesn't know what else to do. He sighs and Boyd waits. When he opens his eyes again, they look calm, but Boyd knows they aren't. He's wearing a mask, one Boyd hasn't seen for a while, maybe not since the mine. "We hurt each other too much. I _need_ to be--I can't have you there."_ _

__Boyd juts his jaw. "Raylan, I don't think--"_ _

__"Just let me go," Raylan sighs and he sounds so tired again, Boyd can't stand it. He sits down heavily and puts his head in his hands. It's aching something fierce, coming up on him fast. When he lifts it, Raylan is gone._ _

__

__Raylan hadn't wanted to talk to Boyd for a while. He thought a clean break would be best. He didn't want the past to distract him, not if he had to be in Harlan._ _

__All that was totally fucked when he found out about Bowman's death and spoke with Ava and nearly got a chest full of buckshot courtesy of Johnny Crowder and his drinking buddies, or so the accident report said._ _

__The man who shot at them was arrested by local PD for reckless endangerment, but because Raylan never said a word to any of those boys but Johnny, who just smiled and smiled and ducked for the shot, he couldn't say it wasn't true. The man had been drinking, his B.A.C was pretty high._ _

__Of course, Raylan isn't going to tell Boyd any of that. As he dials, he gears himself up to say, "Hey, Boyd," to Boyd's breathless, " _Raylan_."_ _

__"Shit, I was hoping you'd call--"_ _

__"Listen," Raylan says quickly, letting a hard edge slide into his tone. Boyd goes silent and Raylan continues. "It, ah--didn't take me long to get down to Harlan after coming in," he says._ _

__"Shit, you see my family?" Boyd asks._ _

__"Boyd, your brother's dead. I'm sorry to say--sort of, I mean, his wife shot him. You remember Ava?"_ _

__"Oh, fuck. Ava? Was he beating on her?"_ _

__"Yeah, for a while."_ _

__Boyd lets out a heavy sigh. "Jesus, Raylan what about daddy? You went down there? Jesus Christ."_ _

__"Baby, shut up," Raylan says. The endearment slips out because Raylan's just so glad to hear his voice. He clamps down on that and grimaces when Boyd's breath hitches hard over the line. "Sorry, Boyd. I got in a little mix up with your cousin when I was down there last night." He hadn't wanted to say. "Nearly took a bunch of buckshot."_ _

__" _Raylan_ ," Boyd says desperately._ _

__"No, listen, I just called because I wanted you to know," he says, emphatically. He wants Boyd to understand, but he doesn't want to say. He thinks maybe he shouldn't have poured himself the second drink before he called. "Your Daddy's in prison right now."_ _

__"You see yours yet?"_ _

__"Christ, no. I hope to avoid that as long as possible."_ _

__"How is it otherwise?"_ _

__Raylan sighs. "I can't do this," he says and hangs up._ _

__

__Raylan avoids Boyd’s calls for about a week until they stop coming. He checks his phone constantly despite this, which is both sad and terrible, but successfully navigates his new position and environment, complications from Ava Crowder notwithstanding._ _

__It’s another week later that all of that is shattered when Raylan exits a meeting to find Boyd standing in front of his desk, looking down at the sign bearing his name and rank, smiling softly and scratching at his nose. He looks up at Raylan and grins._ _

__“Hey,” he says, like nothing strange is happening._ _

__Raylan’s pretty sure his eyes are bugging out and he’s making that face that Michael once called his “tiny frown of true displeasure.” Raylan says, perhaps too loudly, because virtually everyone in the office turns to look, “What the hell are you doing here?”_ _

__Boyd’s grin only grows wider. “Oh, Raylan, I’m just here for a visit. To my home state capitol, of course.”_ _

__“A visit.” Raylan knows that’s a damn lie._ _

__“And since I was in town, I thought I’d come see you,” Boyd continues, placidly. “I really like this office. It’s definitely more homey than the Miami one. But, I have bad memories of that place.”_ _

__“Like hell you did,” Raylan growls, still stuck on ‘I thought I’d come see you,’ as he steps forward to grab Boyd by the elbow, fully intending to drag him forcibly from the room._ _

__“Introduce your friend to everybody, Raylan, “ Art says from behind him. Shit. Boyd always does this. Makes Raylan forget anybody else is around._ _

__Raylan throws a warning glare at Boyd, which apparently goes thoroughly unheeded, as Boyd turns, straining slightly against Raylan’s grip, and says, “Boyd Crowder, nice to meet you,” even as Raylan begins to say, “Art--”_ _

__“Crowder?” Art asks, his brows rising high on his forehead._ _

__“I believe your deputies have tangled with some of my family recently, Chief--”_ _

__When Boyd hesitates, Raylan grudgingly supplies, “Mullen.”_ _

__Boyd throws him a pleased grin, “Chief Mullen. My _estranged_ family, of course.”_ _

__Art’s frowning now, though his brows have not lowered. “And how do you two know each other?”_ _

__Before Raylan can get a word in, Boyd’s talking again, “Raylan and I were friends as young men in Harlan. We dug coal together.” Art nods. That’s what Raylan had said. Not friends, that they dug coal. But, of course, Boyd has to continue, “We reconnected in Miami. I’ve been living there for several years now.”_ _

__Art looks Boyd over. Raylan thinks, somewhere in a part of his mind that isn’t pissed as hell, that he looks good. Like, really good for him, which is great, actually, because Boyd always looks good. His hair’s sticking up every which way, but it looks artful, cultivated. He’s wearing a dark pair of skinny jeans, slung low on his narrow hips, Italian shoes of some kind that Raylan thinks Lilah gave him a few Christmases ago, and a white-on white striped button down shirt, buttoned nearly to the top of his collar. No tie, but he’s Florida tan and his teeth are lighting up the goddamn room._ _

__“You see each other often?” Art asks, his voice pitched slightly lower. Raylan almost groans._ _

__Boyd grins and Raylan knows he knows. Raylan’s denied him. “Surely.”_ _

__“My office. Now,” Art says, very softly. Raylan goes and he doesn’t stop Boyd from following. He realises he’s still holding onto his elbow and lets go hastily. Boyd’s eyes flash in amusement and Raylan wants to punch him._ _

__Art is glaring. Raylan doesn’t bother sitting down. It apparently doesn’t even occur to Boyd, who stands right next to him and crosses his arms over his chest confidently. “You said, ‘No ties,’ Raylan. ‘Not anymore.’ That’s what you said.”_ _

__Raylan sighs. “You’re right, Art. That’s what I said.”_ _

__“Why would you say such a thing?”_ _

__Raylan spreads his hands. He doesn’t look at Boyd. “Because I thought it was true.”_ _

__Art is scowling now too. “You conveniently forgot a years-long friendship with this man?” Art glances at Boyd, as if surprised he actually came in. “You don’t need to be here for this, Mr. Crowder.”_ _

__“I prefer to stay, if you don’t mind,” Boyd says, his voice even, again like nothing about this is weird or hurtful or potentially professionally embarrassing._ _

__Art shrugs and says, “Well, Raylan?”_ _

__“I didn’t _forget_ , Art. I thought it was over.”_ _

__Boyd scoffs and Raylan glares at him again._ _

__“Over?”_ _

__Art’s clearly not getting the subtext here. So Raylan takes a heavy breath. He wasn’t out in Glynco. He knew he was going to have to do this at some point regardless of Boyd showing up. Really, he’d just been waiting for things to calm down. “Art, I told you right. I ain’t just _friends_ with Boyd. Haven’t been for some time. Our...relationship is personal. _Deeply_ personal.”_ _

__Art sits down, looking shocked, but recovering quickly again to frustration or anger. It’s taking a bit for Raylan to get a read on him again. “And you still thought that wasn’t something you ought to tell me before I sent you down to Harlan?”_ _

__“He’s got you, baby,” Boyd murmurs._ _

__“Christ Almighty, will you shut your mouth?” Raylan rounds on him. “You didn’t answer my question, asshole. Just what the fuck do you think you’re doing here?”_ _

__Boyd isn’t phased at all, but Art’s voice get a little strangled as he asks, “You talk to your boyfriend that way, Deputy?”_ _

__“He ain’t my goddamned boyfriend, Art, and it’s not your business.”_ _

__“It is if you’re talkin’ in my office.”_ _

__Boyd grins and Raylan hates him so much. “It’s fine, Chief. I think I surprised Raylan a little. Maybe we should talk more in private,” he says, still so calm. “I can wait if you need to continue with your work.”_ _

__Art waves them off. “Nah, he’ll be useless in this state anyway.”_ _

__“Like you know me so well,” Raylan growls and Art gives him a look. He clamps his mouth shut and adjusts his hat. Boyd beams at him like he’s being cute._ _

__“Go on, then,” Art says and picks up his phone, his personal brand of dismissal._ _

__“Thanks very much, Chief Mullen,” Boyd says jovially._ _

__“Anytime, Mr. Crowder,” Art says, beginning to dial. Raylan wonders peevishly is he’s calling Dan. Maybe they had a bet going. How long would Raylan take to come out? How long ‘til his fuckbuddy came sniffing around? Shit, that was mean, but he was so pissed._ _

__After they exit Art’s office, Raylan grabs his coat and keys fast off his desk and practically pushes Boyd out of the place before he can talk to anybody else. Hilariously, he pushes them both right into Winona._ _

__“Raylan,” she’s already started to say, then her jaw drops and she blurts, “Oh my God.”_ _

__She always was cute when surprised._ _

__Boyd, in a move completely out of character for the afternoon, says nothing and just stares at her._ _

__“I should have said,” Raylan tells him, letting the words sting a little in retribution, “Winona’s in town too.”_ _

__“Hey,” she says, trying valiantly to recover. She shoots Raylan a glare and says, too sweetly. “I thought you said…” she can’t paraphrase in time so Raylan jumps right in._ _

__“That it was over? Yeah, I did.”_ _

__“Raylan’s sadly mistaken,” Boyd says smoothly. “It’s real nice to see you.”_ _

__Raylan sees red. “The hell I am,” he hisses, grabbing at Boyd’s arm again. Boyd shoots him a glare with some heat and Winona backs up a step, shocked by his outburst. Raylan remembers he’s in a public place, one where he needs to maintain some professionalism, so he stalks into the open elevator._ _

__He clearly hears Winona ask Boyd, “Is he all right?” He knows she’s thinking of the other night at her house. He can’t believe he told her about Nicaragua._ _

__Raylan doesn’t bother holding the elevator door, so Boyd has to step back into it quick to stop it from closing as he replies, smiling softly. “He’ll be fine.”_ _

__Once the door closes Raylan rounds on him again. “Just who the fuck do you think you are, Boyd Crowder?”_ _

__Boyd’s eyes flash. His arms are crossed again. “I am who I am, Raylan. I’m someone who loves you very much.”_ _

__Raylan starts shaking his head. “You’re not going to do this. You’re not.”_ _

__“Do what, exactly, Raylan?”_ _

__The door opens at the second floor. Raylan snaps at Kathy, from up in the AUSA’s offices, “Take the next one,” and jabs his finger on the button again. Boyd just watches him._ _

__“This shit,” Raylan says, just speaking as whatever pissed off thought enters his head, “It’s always what you want, what you need, what you can get from me. I told you not to fucking come here. I told you I fucking can’t--”_ _

__“You’re right, Raylan,” Boyd says, and now there’s a pained expression on his face, marring his calm demeanor._ _

__“Shut up. Don’t patronize me.”_ _

__They don’t speak as the walk to Raylan’s car. “How the hell did you get here anyway?” Raylan asks him._ _

__“Public transit,” Boyd says shrugging. “It’s not completely unheard of in this region. Just a little tougher to navigate. Less routes, less stops, less hours.”_ _

__“I suppose you’re gonna need a ride then, huh?”_ _

__Boyd smiles at him knowingly. “You’re really gonna leave me on the side of the road now? I thought you had more vitriol to throw in my direction.”_ _

__Raylan snorts and doesn’t stop him from opening the passenger door when Raylan unlocks the car. “Sure do feel good about yourself right now, don’t you, asshole?”_ _

__He wouldn’t be talking that way if he didn’t think he was gonna win whatever it was he’d come here for. He’d be frowning and guilty and--shit, for all he’s annoying as fuck in that moment, Raylan can’t stand thinking about Boyd as upset as he was when Raylan left Miami._ _

__“I missed you, Raylan,” Boyd says, as if it were the most natural thing in the world for him to say. Though, now that Raylan thinks about it, it was nearly the first thing Boyd had said to him in Miami too._ _

__He frowns at Boyd. “I hope you don’t think that’s going to give you a pass.”_ _

__“A pass from what?” he asks, all innocence._ _

__“From me being pissed at you for ignoring my wishes and coming here when I told you I didn’t want--”_ _

__“But, baby, this isn’t about what you want. It isn’t even about what I want--”_ _

__“Oh, I’m so fucking sure.”_ _

__“You see,” Boyd goes on obliviously. “You’re right, Raylan, as I mentioned before. I was behaving as if my wants and needs were paramount because--and I’m not placing blame here--you rarely voiced yours. I was...out of practice, I guess you could say, though Lord knows when I ever was in practice of trying to think of another’s needs before my own, and I wasn’t paying close enough attention. I promise to do better.”_ _

__“Do better when?” Raylan’s not sure he’s entirely comfortable with the kind of things Boyd’s assuming here._ _

__“When we continue to be in a relationship, Raylan. Which is exactly what you and I both need.”_ _

__Raylan scowls, tightening his hands on the steering wheel. “That’s not--”_ _

__“Raylan, what you don’t want or need is what we had before. With me coming in and out when it pleased me, when nothing else was on my plate. That wasn’t fair to you, and honestly, it’s not all that good for me. I’m gonna stay here with you in Kentucky, which is what I wanted all those years ago, and I’m not gonna see anybody else until we both sit down and say that’s okay.”_ _

__Raylan’s heart is beating very fast and he doesn’t look at Boyd, or say anything in response to that. He still kind of wants to punch him, but he wants to do more, with rough hands and his teeth maybe._ _

__“Fuck you,” he grumbles, with little vehemence._ _

__“Raylan, I really love you quite a lot,” Boyd replies._ _

__Raylan knows that. He didn’t want to hear it before, but he won’t tell Boyd to shut up now._ _

__“I’m living in a motel room,” is what he decides to say._ _

__Boyd laughs._ _

__

__When they enter Raylan's shitty room, he asks, "You didn't bring no luggage with you?"_ _

__Boyd smiles, undoubtedly amused the idea just occurred to Raylan. "Michael's gonna ship some stuff to me in a couple days. You may remember, I don't own a whole lot, baby. I like to travel light."_ _

__Raylan smiles back at him, despite himself. "Your daddy would call you a no account gypsy."_ _

__"Among other things," Boyd laughs._ _

__Raylan frowns at him, leaning up against the dresser as Boyd sits casually on the bed. Raylan crosses his arms. "You're really serious about being back here with me?"_ _

__"Of course, Raylan," he says. His eyes are clear and honest. "I'm happy to be here, really. I don't think I let myself know how much I missed Kentucky."_ _

__"You won't miss it so much if you gotta go down Harlan every other day for some bullshit," Raylan drawls, grimacing._ _

__Boyd's smile falters slightly. "I'm sorry you had to deal so soon with my family. I...find I'm at a loss for what to do about that. Truly, I will do whatever you think best. I don't want to endanger you, or jeopardize your career any further. I know how important it is to you."_ _

__"That's...nice of you, Boyd," Raylan says, there's a creeping heat rising up the back of Raylan's neck. He's not used to Boyd deferring anything to him, let alone control of a situation like this. Raylan finds himself at a loss as well._ _

__"I could talk to Art. Neither of us could go down there."_ _

__Boyd shakes his head a little. "But you want to be in on the action. And, despite what you like to pretend, you know Harlan. You can do good there."_ _

__While Boyd's presence would be a lit match next to a powder keg._ _

__"Shit, Boyd," he says. "What the fuck are you doing here?"_ _

__"You need me, Raylan. I want to be what you need."_ _

__Raylan huffs. "What about what you need? I thought...I thought that was why this never was working like a real--" He’s not sure he can say it._ _

__"Like a real relationship?" Boyd supplies. He tucks his feet up underneath his thighs, sitting Indian-style. "Needs and wants are different. We talked about this. I...fill spaces with people. I need to think about those spaces before I try to fill them up anymore."_ _

__"You sure you ain't fillin' up one of those spaces with me?"_ _

__Boyd blinks, as thought that thought hadn't occurred to him at all. He flops his back down on the bed suddenly and stares at the ceiling, letting his arms spread wide and loose._ _

__"Raylan," he says to the ceiling. "I don't think I ever felt empty with you."_ _

__"That sounds like bullshit to me."_ _

__Boyd raises his head. "Why?"_ _

__"Because I still wasn't enough, this whole time. What did you need to screw around for if I--I can't even believe we're having this conversation."_ _

__Boyd tilts his head then turns on his side, still laying on the bed. His eyes are thoughtful as he says, "Maybe that's why I couldn't stay still, why it wasn't working. We never had any conversations like this."_ _

__Raylan blows out a breath. He moves forward, just wanting to be closer to Boyd. He lays down next to him. The comforter smells like cigarettes and dust. Boyd smells like himself. "Fuck," he breathes._ _

__"I won't stay if you really don't want me here, baby," Boyd says quietly._ _

__Here it is, Raylan's out._ _

__He takes Boyd's hand._ _

**Author's Note:**

> Since writing this fic and rereading it every once in a while for the past five years, I've realized that it's actually me having a literary argument with myself about what bisexuality meant to me, both aspirationally and realistically at the time that I was writing. 
> 
> I also wrote this fic when I was working over 40 hours a week at two different jobs and I think you can really tell based on how tired Raylan is in the last parts.
> 
> I want to trigger warn for a couple things: 
> 
> I wrote this is 2014 and I set it around 2003 or 2004 (about four years before the pilot episode which aired in 2009). I deliberately used language spoken by mostly queer people about other queer people that some might find offensive in the year 2019 and I have not edited it at all since I finished it initially. There may also be some typos.
> 
> Boyd and some original characters recreationally use drugs--specifically ecstasy and marijuana. Canon-typical alcohol consumption also happens.
> 
> There are some descriptions of violence against Raylan and an innocent bystander in Nicaragua. Raylan is injured and does not deal with his trauma in a perfectly healthy way. Canon-typical violence is described as well as the domestic abuse of another original secondary character. This abuse is directly associated with that character's queerness.
> 
> If I missed anything that needs a warning, please kindly let me know in the comments.
> 
> Babies, I really miss this fandom. 
> 
> I know that many of us who were writing in the heyday of the show's airing have moved on to other things (and sadly lost touch). I also feel, in Trump's America, that it's a bit weird being very into a show and a pairing that includes a fairly well-regarded (former) member of a Nazi hate-group (2009 really was a different time). But, I still miss it and love it and keep it near my heart.
> 
> Here may be my final gift to you. Love, Morgan.


End file.
